


Never Feel the Burning Light

by carpemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Denial, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Hero Complex, Intergluteal Sex, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, Living Together, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Theodore Nott, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Party Games, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Prostate Massage, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, brief mentions of Draco Malfoy/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it falls to Draco to restore his family name to its former glory the road ahead of him is long, but with Harry Potter’s help and a plan that is just this side of ridiculous he just might succeed at accomplishing his goals and getting what he wants. What neither of them plan on is falling in love along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LillianLockhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillianLockhart/gifts).



> I had so much fun playing with the Pretend Couple trope for you lillianlockhart, it’s one of my favorite tropes and I hope you enjoy! I tried to include many of your other likes, as well! The title is adapted from a quote from Oscar Wilde. Many, many thanks to Shiftylinguini for the beta read and all of your help and support along the way!

“Lucius Malfoy, the Wizengamot rules that you are —”

Draco had held his breath as the Wizengamot read out his father’s sentence.

“— to complete your previous Azkaban sentence under house arrest. We find you not guilty based on the information and evidence you have provided to the Aurors. An Auror team will place a house binding and tracking spell on you. You will not leave the grounds of the Malfoy Manor property, or you shall immediately be detained and returned to your cell in Azkaban. You are free to go,” announced the squat, grey-haired wizard standing in the Wizengamot gallery.

Draco had let out his breath in a ragged exhale and glanced at his mother seated beside him. The flicker in her eyes was the only indication of her emotions under the mask of porcelain pleasantness that her face had been smoothed into.

It was a chilly morning in London, unlike the sweltering heat that Draco had been released into after his own trial as a free man, purged of the crimes he’d committed in the name of protecting his family. He’d gripped his mother’s hand as tightly as the morning the war had ended, with Potter finishing the Dark Lord with the wand he’d stolen from Draco and Draco huddling in a corner of the Great Hall with his parents. The Aurors had arrested his father again, along with Draco, when they finally noticed them, but his father and their family lawyers had a contingency plan at the ready.

His father had spent the many months he’d been in Auror custody turning over evidence on Death Eaters still at large and giving detailed first hand accounts on Death Eater activities to the Aurors. The lawyers had managed to get his father a plea deal, in exchange for his father’s help. His father was to serve the rest of his Azkaban sentence under a year of strict house arrest and the Malfoy coffers would take a hit for what the Ministry of Magic was calling “War Reparations” to rebuild and restore the wizarding world. 

Draco had left the courtroom and the Ministry, sandwiched between his parents, into the dreary cold November morning, avoiding the glaring eyes of wizards and witches who believed that the Malfoy family hadn’t got a lick of what they deserved for their war crimes. It was the same as the looks he’d received after the Wizengamot pardoned him, thanks to Potter speaking on his behalf and airing out the darkest and most miserable times of Draco’s life for the whole courtroom to hear. Draco held his mother’s hand tighter and kept his eyes forward, unseeing until they returned home to Malfoy Manor. 

If Draco had thought that it had been difficult to please his father before the war had started, he’d been sorely mistaken. Shortly after his family had returned home to Wiltshire his father had started in on him relentlessly. Sometimes in quiet, measured tones, and sometimes in shouted ravings with a drink in his hand. Lucius was lecturing him daily, sometimes feeling the need to do so more than once a day. At least it seemed that afternoon was for a lecture in his father’s precisely measured tones.

“Draco, are you listening to me?” Lucius’ smooth voice cut into Draco’s swirling thoughts and Draco snapped to attention like the trained crup he was.

“Yes, Father,” he said, inclining his head.

“Good, now then — as I was saying, these coming months are of utmost importance now that I am at home and not in danger of returning to Azkaban,” his father said as he paced in front of the fireplace of his study. “I’m relying on you, Draco. You _must_ step up and do your part to help me restore the Malfoy name to the height of its former power and prestige. There is only so much I am able to accomplish while I am confined at home, and we mustn’t lose any time at all.”

Draco stared down into the glass of expensive brandy he had in his hand. His father had mentioned this several times over the last few weeks since his trial. He expected Draco to take over most of the Malfoy businesses and make a name for himself to improve their reputable standing in the wizarding world.

“We must restore our family to its former glory, and we will be successful, my boy, mark my words. There is no room for failure here,” Lucius said with a glint in his eyes.

“Yes, Father, of course,” Draco said and drank deeply from his glass, savoring the subtle flavors. Draco moved across the plush carpet to the bookshelf-lined wall. He trailed his fingers along the texts on the shelves, admiring the spines of the ancient books he’d not been permitted to touch as a young boy. Now his father expected him to become the Malfoy he’d groomed him all his life to be. 

“It will be as if the war never happened,” Lucius went on and Draco had to hold back a snort of disbelief.

It was unlikely anyone would ever be able to forget that the war had happened and what part the Malfoys had played in it.

*******

Draco found that this task wasn’t easy at all. Despite the Wizengamot’s ruling on his trial, the wizarding public was not ready to forgive and forget the Malfoy transgressions anytime soon.

Draco was uncomfortably aware of the scornful eyes that found his back whenever he was in Diagon Alley. At first, after his trial, he’d been reluctant to step out into the wizarding world, but he’d managed after a few months of being pardoned. He’d been visiting the shops in Diagon Alley, looking for an apprenticeship that would help him get into the healer training program he was interested in. His application had been rejected twice already. Draco faced the sour opinion of the public every time he went out in public while he was trying to follow in his father’s shadow keeping the Malfoy businesses afloat and putting his ugly past behind him.

He shook off his morose thoughts as he pushed into the third apothecary he’d tried to obtain a position at since he’d first started looking late in the summer. Slug and Jiggers had turned him away immediately, not even wanting him to step foot in the store. It had been a harsh blow to his pride; he’d always shopped at Slug and Jiggers for his ingredients when he’d been in school.

Instead of a bell above the door when he pushed into the shop, Draco found a plump cat with brown and white mottled fur lounging on a purple, velvet tufted cushion in the entryway. It looked Draco up and down shortly and then let out a short _Mrrrow_ that echoed into the dimly lit shop. Draco supposed the cat was the bell and the corner of his mouth tugged up into a half smile.

A short middle-aged witch with frizzy hair and a smattering of moles and freckles across her face met him halfway into the shop. Her dark eyes sized him up shrewdly, and before he could even open his mouth she cut him off with a gruff, “Wha’chu want, boy?”

Draco blinked and eyed the wrinkled, stubby finger she pointed at him.

“I am looking for work. I’d like to offer my services — that is, if you’re in need of an assistant, Madame,” he said. He glanced around the shop and fought not to wrinkle his nose at the subpar organization and the ingredients that looked of poor quality on display before he added quickly, “I’m looking for an apprenticeship. I need one to get into the Healer program.”

The witch was silent for a long moment and then motioned for him to follow her. She led him over towards the shop window and Draco tried not to let his heart sink. Another shop owner had done the same thing, and he knew what it meant already. As soon as the witch saw him in the light, with his unmistakable hair, her dark eyes regarded him coldly.

“No work here for yeh, not for the likes a’yeh,” she said, and at that, Draco’s heart did sink a bit. He swallowed, nodded once, and turned to make his way out of the shop back into the dreary, overcast day. The weather matched his mood quite well.

How did his father expect him to do this if he couldn’t even find a lowly apprenticeship? He’d already had his name stricken not-so-mysteriously from the N.E.W.T. level make up examinations list over the summer that the Ministry had sanctioned.

_Pardoned my arse_ , Draco thought unkindly. What the Ministry really wanted was for the Malfoys to just disappear, to be swept under the rug and vanish like nothing more than dirt and dust.

_If only_ , Draco thought with a heavy sigh.

Draco hadn’t been looking where he was going, he’d been lost in his thoughts, and he’d forgotten to pull up the hood of his cloak when he’d left the shop and it was a mistake. He bumped into a solid figure in front of him and before he could even get out a curt apology he was gripped by his upper arms and thrust back into the chest of someone standing behind him. Thick, muscled arms banded around his chest and Draco tried not to let his rising panic overtake him.

“Well, well, then, look here — Malfoy junior out and about in Diagon,” said the man he’d bumped into. “Thinks he’s fit to walk around a free man with no punishment for what he’s done, isn’t that right, Junior?”

Draco felt the burly man that held him laughing, his chest moving behind his back. Other people closed in a circle around him and Draco grit his teeth together, itching to reach for his wand. Potter had returned it with a short note with one word scrawled on it: _Thanks_.

Someone from the gathered group spat at Draco’s feet, their saliva landing in a clump somewhere around his knees and slowly oozing down his trouser leg. There were intelligible cries from the group, each about how his father had wronged them or how his actions against Dumbledore and Hogwarts had cost their children dearly.

“My daughter was tortured under the Cruciatus Curse for speaking Harry Potter’s name,” cried one woman to his left. “She was only fourteen!”

“Your father blackmailed my brother and he lost his position at the Ministry,” said another angrily. The voices bled together as Draco’s short tether on his panic began to give way to dread and fear.

“— should’ve locked the whole lot of you in Azkaban for _life_ —”

“— good for nothing, your whole lot deserve the Dementor’s Kiss —”

“— should just do the world a favour and —”

A sharp crack and the blur of a Patronus broke through the crowd and made them all step back enough to allow Draco room to breath. Harry Potter was glaring down the crowd with his wand still held up, his eyes flashing dangerously, and his jaw clenched. He was wearing the Auror training robes with two golden stripes on each scarlet shoulder and a wide grey sash.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked. The witches and wizards that had been shouting a moment ago looked around at each other silently. Draco supposed that none of them wanted to cross the Boy Who Lived. After a dark glance from Harry, the burly wizard that held him let him go. The man gave Draco a little shove and Draco itched to whip his head around and glare over his shoulder. He didn’t. 

Draco glanced down at the dusty cobblestone street before he looked up at Potter and gave him a nod before turning to go on his way. He heard Potter tell the crowd of harassers to _clear off_ and _move along_ while Draco walked with his back stiff down to the bend in the road.

“Hey, Malfoy, wait up!” Draco hadn’t gotten very far before Potter caught up with him. Draco sighed internally and turned to face Potter warily.

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco said. Potter waved him off with a dismissive wave of his hand and studied Draco for a moment.

“Does that happen a lot?” Potter asked. Draco opened his mouth to quickly deny that it did, because he didn’t need anymore of Potter’s pity or help, _thank you very much_ , but Potter cut him off. “Malfoy,” he said flatly and Draco looked to the side with a sigh.

“Sometimes,” he said tightly. “Not often enough to warrant a formal complaint with the ever helpful Ministry.”

Potter’s mouth quirked into a wry grin at that, and Draco was lost momentarily in his thoughts about what a nice smile he had and that the months of rest he’d surely gotten since the end of the war had certainly done him some good. Potter looked healthy and well fed, _alive_ , rather than the scrawny boy that had been his school rival. Draco supposed that not having a mad man trying to kill him and not having to live on the run certainly made for a healthier lifestyle.

“Malfoy?” Potter asked and Draco started, realizing how long he’d been lost in thought over the way Potter looked. He bit the inside of his cheek and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” Potter said and Draco looked at him in surprise, “the Wizengamot pardoned you but the public hasn’t forgiven your family, I guess.”

“Yes, well, I expect the public will have a long memory and quite a difference of opinion on where my family should be residing,” Draco replied.

To Draco’s surprise Potter held out his hand. For a moment Draco was unsure of what he was meant to do with it, until he realized with a start Potter wanted to shake his hand. Here, in the middle of Diagon Alley. In broad daylight.

Draco’s throat went a bit tight and a wave of emotions washed over him. He flashed back to that first train ride to Hogwarts and swallowed the lump in his throat. He could see he was hesitating too long, the light in Potter’s eyes was fading in uncertainty, and he knew any moment Potter would drop his hand and pull away. Draco shot his hand forward and shook Potter’s hand like it was a lifeline and he would drown at sea if he let go. Potter’s eyebrows shot up, but Draco didn’t care for once what Harry Potter thought of him. He was too busy relishing the feel of Potter’s warm and callused palm against his. _They fit together nicely_ , Draco thought wildly to himself.

When their exchange had gone on until it was edging into awkward territory, Draco felt Potter pulling his hand back.

“Well, I’m glad that I was around on my patrol to help out with — yeah — er, I guess I’ll be seeing —” Potter had started to say, gesturing back down the street to the opposite end of Diagon Alley. Draco found himself not wanting the fragile moment to end and words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could filter himself.

“A drink!” Draco said quickly, and he wanted to clap his hand over his mouth and step on his own foot. He cleared his throat when Potter raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “Yes, a — er, drink. With me. And you,” Draco fumbled, hating his sudden ineloquence — _what was wrong with him_ , “That is to say, can I buy you a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, Potter? Lunch? To thank you for your help today, and at the trial.”

Potter glanced over his shoulder towards the opposite end of the street again before he turned and shrugged and gestured to Draco as he began walking in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron with a gruff, “Yeah, alright.”

They walked along Diagon Alley in silence, and as they made their way, people stared openly at the sight of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walking down the road in stark contrast. Draco resisted the urge to pull up the hood of his cloak and hide his face, that was the coward’s way out and he needed to be proud of himself — of his name. When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, the lunch hour had the pub bustling with energy and chatter. Potter waved him towards a table and made his way to the bar to order drinks.

Draco sat with his back to the wall, facing out into the hubbub. It didn’t help; he still felt a mild Stinging Hex hit him in the shins. He grit his teeth and made an effort not to show any emotion as Potter made his way back with overflowing tankards of warm butterbeer.

“Thanks,” Draco said as Potter set one of the foamy drinks down in front of him.

“Yeah,” Potter nodded and sat across from him. “I put in an order for a basket of chips and a couple of steak and kidney pies, I hope that’s alright.”

_How plebian_ , Draco thought, but he didn’t let it show on his face, his mask was firmly in place.

“So,” Draco said after taking a long drink. The butterbeer warmed his belly and it made him suddenly nostalgic for Hogsmeade trips in the winter. “Auror training, then?”

“Yeah,” Potter said as he glanced down at his kit with a vague gesture of his hand. “I studied for the N.E.W.T.s after the trials over the summer and did the Ministry sanctioned re-takes. Hermione had to help me study for them. She gave me and Ron a bit of a crash course in all the material we were meant to learn in seventh year. Hermione’s already gone back to Hogwarts, she writes every week about the seventh year curriculum we missed out on and how she wishes we would’ve joined her there for the repeat year.”

Draco made a noncommittal hum and stared down at the table. 

“She — ah —,” Potter trailed off awkwardly when he realized he was blithering on about Granger. He coughed and drank from his tankard as their food appeared with a faint _pop_. “Well, anyway, yes — Auror training for me. And Ron, he’s — ah — been helping out at his brother’s shop, and Hogwarts for Hermione.”

Draco nodded and picked at the steaming chips and tried not to make a face while he watched Potter drown his own chips in vinegar.

“What about you, since your trial?” Potter asked. Draco poked at his food.

“Well, right after I was just spending time with my Mother, really, and then towards the end of the summer I started to look for an apprenticeship with an apothecary so that I might get into the Healer training program at St. Mungo’s,” Draco said. He looked up to watch Potter’s reaction and was pleased to see both of Potter’s eyebrows shoot into his tangled mess of a hairline. “I didn’t get to do the N.E.W.T.s yet, but I’ve done a bit of research and an apprenticeship goes a long way for the track I want to study. I’ve also been minding the books for my Father’s businesses while he was giving evidence to the Aurors he was working with.”

Potter hummed in response as he shoveled his food into his mouth. He didn’t comment on Lucius otherwise, and Draco thought that might be for the best. He was just glad Potter let it slide that Draco described it as his father _working with the Aurors_ rather than the reality of his father _being arrested and bartering for his freedom_.

“Do you want to be a Healer or something, then?” Potter asked curiously.

“Or something,” Draco replied vaguely. He just knew he wanted to study in the training program. At this point it was looking like he’d never get his career off the ground if he couldn’t even get into the program, let alone follow the Healer track.

“I think that’s brilliant,” Potter said with a smile and Draco found himself smiling back easily.

They continued to chat while they ate and drank and Draco was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Potter as long as they avoided the difficult topics. Draco found that Potter was actually quite funny, and Draco was enjoying himself and laughing easily. There was warmth in his stomach that wasn’t just from the pub food and warm butterbeer. He’d even been able to forget about the cold stares he’d seen around the room while they ate.

All too soon, Potter was looking at a watch he pulled from his pocket and frowning. There was a line that appeared between his brows and Draco had the irrational desire to smooth it out with his thumb.

“Ah, sorry, I’m going to have to get back. I’ve got a seminar in the afternoon,” Potter said. Draco pulled out his coin pouch and dropped a sufficient amount of Galleons and Sickles onto the table to pay for their drinks and their food. “Thanks for lunch, Malfoy.”

“Yes, thank you for your help. This was rather enjoyable,” Draco said with a small smile and a nod to Potter as they both stood to leave. Draco held out his hand and he held his breath. Potter only hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand and smiling at him. Draco bit down on his cheek and — _no_ , his stomach did _not_ swoop over Potter’s smile. It didn’t.

“Maybe we can do it again, sometime, then,” Potter said and before Draco could answer Potter was sweeping out the door and back into the late November chill.

*******

Two days later Draco was pouring over the numbers on a long scroll of parchment for a broom manufacturing company when his head shot up and a thought crossed his mind. His father had accosted him again that morning, asking how their plans were progressing. Draco had assured him that he was doing everything in his power to bring the Malfoy name out of the mud.

He realized that his tentative new friendship with Harry Potter could be of use to him. He could use it to his advantage to solve all of his problems. If he could show the wizarding world he had Potter’s favour, he could maybe accomplish what his father wanted from him.

Ideas began to form in Draco’s head. Just being Potter’s friend wouldn’t be enough, it wouldn’t garner enough public attention. People would assume that it was just another of Saint Potter’s endless good deeds, taking pity on a Malfoy. Or they’d think that Potter was just keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t join another dark cause.

No, he’d need to think bigger than friendship.

Unbidden, an image of Potter’s smile popped into Draco’s head and his ideas shifted until a scheme formed. Draco smirked slowly.

“Yes,” he said quietly to himself.

It was a little crazy, but if Draco could convince Potter to take him on a few dates out and about in the wizarding world it just might be ridiculous enough to fix his reputation problems.

He set aside the scroll of numbers and leaned back in his chair to figure out how he would convince Potter to help him out.

*******

Draco waited until they’d had a second, and then a third lunch together over the course of a few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron before he tested the water with Potter. As long as he could convince Potter, it was the perfect plan.

“So then Savage — he’s the senior training officer — he’s got one of the other trainees caught with a Leg-Lock Jinx, of all things, and trying to complete the obstacle course they set up for us,” Potter was guffawing between pauses in his story about one of his training exercises the previous week and stuffing chips in his mouth. Draco was very distracted by the grease and malt vinegar that was seeping down to coat Potter’s fingers and hands. Part of him wanted to close his fingers delicately around Potter’s wrist and lick each of those fingers clean. He relished the thought of Potter trailing off from his story and staring at him wide-eyed. “And Savage is shouting at us, ‘ _No man left behind, no man behind!_ ’ so I had to carry the trainee on my back while dodging the obstacle hexes while my trainee partner was dragging someone by the foot behind her,” Potter finished, his eyes lit up with glee. Draco couldn’t help but smile at him in return, Potter was like an oversized excitable puppy sometimes. Potter looked like he was about to continue on with the rest of his story but Draco stopped him before he could go on.

“Potter, why is it that you haven’t told me about your little girlfriend? You usually talk about everyone else in your life,” Draco interrupted him to ask, eyeing him carefully. Potter looked startled and he fidgeted in his seat.

“Um,” Potter said. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Well, she’s not my girlfriend anymore. We — uh — took a break and we haven’t really talked about, um, anything — I mean —”

“Potter,” Draco said, trying valiantly to hold back his smirk at Potter’s awkwardness. “Relax, I was only asking.”

“Right,” Potter replied, looking uncomfortable. He brightened when he turned back to Draco. “How’s the hunt for work going?”

“It’s not,” Draco said and he saw his opportunity and took it. “People are still, how shall I put it, reluctant to tie themselves to a Malfoy.”

Potter frowned and looked unnecessarily guilty, which was ridiculous. _It’s not like he made me make those choices_ , Draco thought. The guilty look gave him hope and he pressed on.

“Actually, Potter, I was thinking,” he started slowly. “You might be able to help me, as it were.”

“How? I already spoke for you at your trial, I’m not really sure what else I’d be able to do,” Potter replied. Draco smiled faintly at him.

“I’m not going to be able to find the position I need to get into the training program,” Draco said, framing his plan so that it played to Potter’s heroic tendencies. “The shop owners I keep seeing can’t really see anything past my name.”

He paused and watched his words sink in for Potter. He didn’t let on that he understood, but his eyes were sharp.

“So I was hoping you might help me to improve my reputation,” Draco said. Potter tilted his head.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I don’t really see how I can help you do that.”

“A date,” Draco said and Potter’s neck popped when he snapped it straight again. “Well, a few dates, to be precise.”

“What — I don’t —” Potter spluttered and Draco held up a hand to stop him.

“Relax, Potter, I’m not asking you to be my _real_ boyfriend. I’m asking for your assistance to just help me clean up the reputation of my name. I’m trying to put all the horrible things that happened in the war behind me, Potter,” Draco said with a desperate edge to his voice. “I did horrible things, but I’m trying to be better. I need your help, just — I need you to pretend to go on a date with me a few times out and about and let the public see that I’m not what they think I am. _Please_.”

“I don’t know, Malfoy, that sounds like a ridiculous idea,” Potter said and looked around. He shuffled his chair closer and lowered his voice. “How would me going on a date with you make people forget that you’re a Death Eater?”

“ _Was_ a Death Eater, Potter,” Draco answered coldly. “I’m not one anymore.”

“Okay, well still — how is a date somewhere public going to help with that?”

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache blooming behind his left eye.

“I was just thinking that if people could see that Harry Potter can forgive me and move on, then so can they, so that I can have a chance of walking the streets without being harassed and move out of this limbo I’ve been stuck in,” Draco said tightly. He looked up at Potter and saw an unnamed emotion flash across Potter’s eyes. “It’s not like this is an easy thing for me to ask, least of all from you. Just — be seen with me in public," Draco said.

"Alright, but why can't it just be as friends? I don't see why we'd have to be _dating_. I’m already seen with you in public when we meet up for lunch," Potter said exasperatedly. "Why is that the deciding factor on whether or not the wizarding world leaves you alone?”

“Because just being seen with you as a friend hasn’t done anything to change people’s opinions of me!” Draco said in a frustrated tone. “People think you’re just taking pity on me — or worse, watching me to make sure I don’t do any other dastardly things.”

Potter was shaking his head and Draco felt his heart sink. His wonderful plan was fizzling out before his eyes. He stared down bitterly at the rough wooden table.

“Why three dates, why is just one not enough?” Potter asked and Draco looked up at him from the patterns in the wood his eyes had been tracing.

“Just one could be construed as a one off and we both don’t need to put on the farce for too long. All I’m asking is a few weeks of your time, not much more than you’ve already given with these lunch meetings. I thought you loved to help your friends, or can I not call you that quite yet?” Draco asked. When Potter looked unnecessarily guilty again, like a kicked crup, Draco’s hope perked up again.

“I mean, yeah, we’re — yes, you can call me your friend now. We’re all just trying to move past what happened,” Potter said haltingly. “I just don’t know if I could do that, I mean, even if it’s just pretend I’m not really ready to — I’m not —”

“What, Potter, spit it out.”

“ _Gay_ ,” Potter said in a hushed tone, his eyes darting around wildly to check if anyone had overheard. Draco smirked at him and had to look at the table to keep himself from laughing out loud at the idiot.

“Oh, Potter,” Draco said lightly, shaking his head. “What do you take me for, someone who’s going to jump you on our first date?”

“Well, I just — am I going to have to kiss you?“

“Why, thought about it often, have you?” Draco asked cheekily with a toothy grin. To his delight Potter’s eyes briefly darted to his mouth when his tongue peeked out from between his teeth. _Interesting_ , Draco thought. 

“I wasn’t! I haven’t —” Potter stumbled over his words, his eyes wide and panicked.

Draco couldn’t hold the laughter in any longer and he curled forward on himself, shaking with mirth. When he was able to draw in deep breaths again, he looked up to see Potter was scowling at him .

“Your _face_ , Potter,” Draco said between the last of his laughter. Draco caught his breath and straightened out his waistcoat, smoothing his hands down the front. He looked up through his fringe and caught Potter’s eyes surreptitiously following the path of his hands. “Could you really not pretend to date me?”

“I don’t know,” Potter answered and looked off to the side as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. Draco nodded, even though Potter didn’t see it.

“Alright, well, then I’d better be going,” Draco said, all traces of his amusement gone. He’d thought it wouldn’t be so hard to convince Potter, especially when it turned out he was single and unattached. “Thank you for lunch, I need to get to a meeting with one of my father’s business investors.”

Draco stood and made his way out of the Leaky Cauldron before Potter could get a word in edgewise. He immediately regretted his decision to leave without Potter when he felt the sharp zing of a stinging hex catch him just a few minutes after he’d left. Draco sighed and tugged the hood of his cloak down further over his easily recognizable hair.

“Oi — you vile boy! Come back here this instant!”

_Zing_. Draco grimaced as a much stronger pain shot up his leg and heavily favoured his right one as he made his way along the road.

“Don’t ignore me, you Death Eater scum!” Draco heard the shrill cry of the woman who must be hexing him. She gave a strangled cry and Draco looked back over his shoulder to see Potter stand over her, wand drawn on her and looking murderous. Draco’s breath caught in his throat at the fire in Potter’s eyes, on his behalf — for him. Draco wanted to continue on his way to his meeting, his stinging leg be damned, he didn’t want Potter to see him like this. The intensity in Potter’s eyes held him in place.

“I saw you casting,” he heard Potter say in his gruff Auror tone. “That second one was toeing the line of legality. You don’t want to do that again.”

“Mr. Potter! You don’t understand, what his father did to my family was —” The witch’s cry was cut off and she looked baffled when Potter nodded to Draco before steering the woman in the opposite direction up the road. He could hear the nasal whinging of the witch pick up again as Potter led her away from him. Draco shook his head and Disapparated.


	2. PART 2

Harry was intrigued — and probably more curious than he should be — at Malfoy’s reasoning for his convoluted plan to redeem his reputation with the public. He didn’t believe it would work, and as he’d watched Malfoy quickly retreating, his gut had twisted with guilt. They usually left together after their lunches, and Harry had noticed that Malfoy wasn’t harassed as much as he’d been when he’d first stumbled upon him on patrol. He had been absolutely against the idea of Malfoy’s crazy plan to pretend to date; he wasn’t ready to come out to the world yet, and this would surely rip him out into the spotlight again. He’d only been ready to tell his friends so far that he didn’t find himself only attracted to girls, and that he thought about boys far more often than girls lately. But then he’d stopped that frail old witch who had cast a Stinging Hex on Malfoy, one that used to be classified as a dark hex. He’d been so angry with her and he’d felt a rush of protectiveness over Malfoy, and he could already feel himself giving in to Malfoy’s plan.

And really, how hard could it be? He’d just take Malfoy out a few times. It didn’t really sound like it would be the end of the world. If anything, it would give him some closure and transition from his relationships with girls at Hogwarts into the frightening prospect of finding someone out in the wizarding world to date. Someone who wasn’t a crazed fan that walked the line between obsessive and stalker. Sometimes he really envied that Ron and Hermione had found each other at Hogwarts, and a part of him feared that he would never find something like what they had, that he’d missed his chance by not getting it with Ginny.

The prospect of agreeing to Malfoy’s plan to take him out as his fake boyfriend plagued his thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. It made it hard to concentrate on the seminar he sat through, and made him almost burn the dinner he was cooking for himself. After he ate his dinner, alone because Ron and Hermione were out on a date, he found himself kneeling in front of the fire of the flat he shared with his friends and rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his denims. He took a shaky breath and steeled himself, dropping the Floo powder into the grate.

“Hey,” he greeted when Malfoy’s face appeared in the flames. Malfoy looked a little frazzled, and Harry found himself wondering how Malfoy’s meeting had gone. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?” Malfoy asked distractedly, pausing after his question to peer over his shoulder and give an order to one of his house elves.

“I’ll take you out on a few dates,” Harry clarified, and was amused and gratified to see Malfoy’s head snap back around to him with his eyebrows raised. He looked shocked, and then quite happy and relieved, and it made warmth spread through Harry.

“You’ll —” Malfoy said and then cut himself off. “Right, is your Floo connection open? I’d like to hammer out the particulars right away. Might I come through?”

Harry stood and stretched his legs and made room for Malfoy to step through the Floo connection. Harry watched as Malfoy expertly spelled away the soot and dust from the shoulders of his crisp shirt. Malfoy looked around and followed Harry when he turned, leading them into the kitchen.

“Tea?” Harry asked and put the kettle on when Malfoy nodded. “You can sit down at the table, have you eaten yet?”

“No, I had a busy afternoon and I hadn’t gotten to it yet,” he answered and Harry nodded.

“Well, I made myself something, but I didn’t leave much left over since Ron and Hermione are out to dinner,” Harry explained as he examined the pantry and icebox for what he could scrounge up. “We have some fresh bread and some cold cuts, is a sandwich okay?”

“Well, you don’t really have to make me anything, really,” Malfoy said. “Do you have any biscuits to go with tea?”

“We do,” Harry answered as he reached into the cabinet to pull down his favourite biscuits, the box of ginger ones and the box of chocolate ones that he kept hidden from Hermione. Harry set their tea and biscuits on the table and took a seat opposite from Malfoy. “So, the particulars,” he said as he nabbed two chocolate biscuits for himself.

“The particulars,” Malfoy repeated as he stirred milk and sugar into his tea. Harry noted that he took it very sweet. “Just as I was explaining at lunch earlier, I think three dates should be sufficient. We’ve already been seen out several times over the last few weeks sharing a meal, so perhaps for the first one we should go to something more public. Are there any galas for the Ministry coming up where no one could mistake me as a friend if I came as your plus one?”

Harry made a face and munched on his biscuit, getting the crumbs all over his jumper. If Malfoy noticed he held his tongue and didn’t say anything. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Why can’t we do something like go to a Quidditch match?”

“Well, alright, there is a game for the Falcons coming up. I suppose that can work. What about a reservation for dinner this Friday night at The Gilded Torch? It’s very exclusive and it’s likely we’ll only be able to get a reservation because you’re you. I’d like a table in their candlelit section reserved for couples on the terrace. I hear they use intricate weather regulation charms to keep everyone comfortable,” Malfoy said, and Harry was amused to hear his demanding tone.

“Alright, so that’s two dates. What should we do for the third?” Harry asked. He watched Malfoy, who looked lost in thought over the prospect of the restaurant. Malfoy squinted at Harry over the rim of his teacup and made a _hmmm_ sound in thought. “Can we have breakfast in Diagon Alley after the Quidditch date and just walk around the shops? What if we ended it with a stop at Fortescue’s for ice cream?”

At the mention of ice cream Malfoy’s eyes lit up, and Harry had an inkling that he definitely had a sweet tooth. He vaguely recalled his days back at Hogwarts when Malfoy would receive countless care packages from home filled with expensive treats. Malfoy was nodding and reaching for a biscuit. “Yes, Potter, I think you’re onto something there — that just might be the perfect ploy. If the public sees us at a Quidditch game on a Saturday, and then having breakfast in Diagon Alley the next morning, they’ll know we spent the night together!”

“We what?” Harry spluttered, coughing on the biscuit crumbs he’d inhaled in shock. “I’m not going to sleep with you!”

“Oh don’t be daft, you fool, we won’t actually do that. We’ll just be making it look like we’ve spent the night together,” Malfoy reassured him. It made Harry feel slightly better, but then Malfoy went on. “That does bring us to another point though, public displays of affection. I know we talked about kissing earlier and you were...interested,” Malfoy said after a pause with a glint in his eye.

“I was not interested in kissing you!” Harry said defensively, knowing full well he’d thought about what Malfoy’s lips would feel like against his when they’d been talking about kissing.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Malfoy said placatingly. “Would you be able to agree to kissing me in public? No tongue, not a full on snog. Just, pressing our lips together. That’s not so hard, is it?”

Harry took a long moment to mull the idea over in his head and distracted himself by gulping down the rest of his tea and fixing himself a second cup. Kissing. Malfoy. Kissing Draco Malfoy. Would it be the end of the world if he did that? He could brave it, surely?

“Alright,” Harry agreed slowly. “We can do that, but no tongue — like you said! And I suppose I can hold your hand. What other sorts of things do people do in public when they’re dating?” He asked, thinking of the easy connection between Ron and Hermione, and how they were often touching each other in one way or another. “Would we need to walk around all wrapped up in each other if we’re just planning on staging a breakup?”

“Well, we don’t have to be in each other’s pockets everywhere we go. Holding hands should be sufficient, and perhaps at the Quidditch match one of us could wrap an arm around the waist of the other,” Malfoy said. He nodded and set his cup down, standing and smoothing out the creases in his shirt and trousers. “Right, well this has been an excellent strategy meeting, Potter. I’ve got to get back. I’ll send you an Owl with the details of when I’ll be free. You work on getting that reservation and tickets to the game, yes?”

Harry stood and walked the short distance with him through the hall and back to the Floo. Malfoy held out his hand to shake and Harry took it without hesitation. “Thank you,” Malfoy said suddenly, his eyes intense and serious as they bored into Harry’s. Malfoy gripped his hand tightly and with a swirl of powder and green flames he was gone. Harry was alone again in the flat.

As he was cleaning up the kitchen a thought occurred to him that made him pause. They hadn’t talked about when or how they’d stage a breakup.

*******

The next day Harry grabbed a takeaway lunch and brought it to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes to share with Ron and Hermione. He couldn’t wait to tell Ron about the ridiculous plan he’d agreed to. Hermione was home from Hogwarts for the holidays and was helping out around the shop. He was sure she’d find it less amusing, but he’d missed her and was looking forward to having lunch with both of them. The three of them were sitting in the back office with cartons of food and Harry was in the middle of explaining the situation to his friends.

“So, we agreed to three dates in public, and then we can go back to the friendly lunches we’ve been having,” Harry said and Ron snorted into his takeaway carton.

“That’s rich, Harry,” he laughed. “Git’s got you wrapped around his bloody little finger, then, does he?”

“It’s not like that, we’re sort of friends now, Ron. I just want to help him is all,” Harry said. “Besides, it’s not right, him not even being able to go down Diagon during the day without getting hexed or spat on. He just wants me to help him with this so he can get an apprenticeship that’ll make it easier for him to get into the Healer training program.”

“Well, I think it’s nice that Malfoy wants to actually do some work. I would’ve thought he’d just follow in his father’s footsteps and manage their family business investments,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “It’s interesting that he wants to get into the Healer training program so badly, though. If he was going to study anything, I’d have guessed it would be potions.”

“There’s a specific track for potions in the program, isn’t there?” Harry asked. Hermione had made him look into all sorts of training programs before he’d applied to the Auror Training Academy, even though he’d already decided on being an Auror. Hermione hummed and nodded.

“So, Harry, where’s your first hot date? Do you have to take him dancing? Will he wear _leather_ pants?” Ron asked, still laughing and taking the piss. Harry raised an eyebrow at him with a grin.

“Leather pants? Ron, is there something you’ve been hiding from us all these years? Do you have a taste for leather or are you just fantasizing about Malfoy wearing it?” Harry elbowed him and Ron scoffed.

“No to both, you twat!” Ron said and punched him playfully on the arm.

“Thank heavens for that, leather chafes,” Hermione said primly and Ron flushed and stared at Hermione with wide eyes, mumbling about Hermione’s arse in leather. _She’s broken him with that mental image of her_ , Harry thought to himself with amusement.

“We have a reservation for dinner at The Gilded Torch this Friday for the first one. Malfoy sent me a short owl about it early this morning,” Harry cut in as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up into her bushy hair. She looked impressed.

“That’s a very intimate restaurant,” she said and Harry hummed in agreement. “It’s not exactly in the public’s eye, though.”

“Malfoy wanted a table on their terrace, so people walking by could see us there,” Harry said.

“Are you going to give him a kiss goodnight?” Ron asked cheekily and Harry swatted at him half-heartedly. Ron danced out of his reach with a chuckle.

“I guess so, we’ve discussed and agreed to specific touching that’s okay,” Harry hedged, not exactly wanting to explain them in detail to his friends. Hermione looked at him, interest twinkling in her eyes.

“Bet the press’ll go wild over that if they catch it, eh? Hell of a way to end up coming out to the world,” Ron said, his laughter sobering. Harry had already thought about that, and it sent an icy spike of anxiety through his gut. He’d only discussed it briefly with Ron and Hermione right at the end of the summer, and he’d been relieved when they showered him with love and support. Well, he’d just be coming out sooner than he’d expected, that was all. It would be better this way. This whole plan with Malfoy would save him from having to deal with any backlash without actually having to be involved with anyone. It was like they were coming out together, rather than him coming out all on his own. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry? It all sounds very ridiculous,” Hermione said. “It’s not likely to get Malfoy what he wants.”

“No,” Ron agreed, his grin back on his face. “But it’ll be hilarious anyway to watch,” he was laughing again, and then sat up mid-chuckle with suspicious eyes. “Hang on, Harry, does this mean you’ll be seeing even more of Malfoy to plan this shite out? Is he going to be round the flat?”

Hermione shook her head in exasperated fondness and turned back to Harry.

“Well, we only agreed to three dates, so I don’t think so,” Harry said. “A few dates, then that should be that.”

“And how is that going to effect Malfoy’s ‘ _improved_ ’ standing in the wizarding world if you’re only going to take him out a few times and then break up with him?” Hermione asked and Harry cursed her silently for always asking things that gave him pause and made him worry. Her eyes were calculating and full of concern, though Harry wasn’t sure whether it was only for him or if she actually cared what happened to Malfoy. “Won’t the public just lash out at him again and accuse him of hurting you? What if he’s accused of using a Love Potion or Imperius on you, and then he gets arrested over that speculation?”

“I hadn’t given that much thought,” Harry admitted. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering, “Typical.”

They finished their lunch with lighter conversations and before long Harry was on his way back to the training facility.

*******

The following afternoon Harry received an Owl officially inviting him to the first of his dates with Malfoy, instructing him to be ready to be picked up at seven sharp on Friday night. Harry spared a moment to be amused over Malfoy’s formal wording and the expensive parchment and self-embossing ink he’d used to write the note. He was late for his afternoon seminar and he didn’t have time to reply to Malfoy’s Owl. He assumed that it was a general notice and didn’t require a response since they’d already agreed on the particulars of their first date.

A few hours later when he dropped his bag onto his chair, he saw the same owl from earlier — Malfoy’s owl — sitting on his desk and looking at him reproachfully. It stuck its leg out and Harry hastily removed the note. He frowned as he read it over. It was an angry demand for a response to his invitation to dinner. Harry huffed out a weary sigh and scribbled a hasty reply.

_Sorry I didn’t respond before. I didn’t think I had to since we’d already agreed to Friday. Some of us actually have things to do during the day, rather than sit around being self-important. I’ll be ready. See you then._

_— HP_

He quickly attached the reply to the owl’s leg and scrambling around his desk for anything that he could pass off as an owl treat when he heard his name being shouted.

“Potter!” his training instructor barked. “No dawdling, get down to the Combat and Charms Defense Course!”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered as he hurried along, watching the owl flutter off ahead of him.

At the end of the day when Harry strolled out of the Ministry he found Malfoy standing there waiting for him. Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the amusing sight of him. He looked rather like an angry cat. Harry walked over, hiking his satchel higher on his shoulder. He nodded in greeting.

“Hi,” he said as he started to walk in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Malfoy followed him and kept pace beside him.

“Potter, I wasn’t amused by your Owl today,” Malfoy said with a pinched expression. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. He felt a lecture coming on. “It was very rude of you to ignore my first Owl, and then respond to my second by telling me that you assumed you didn’t have to answer me.”

“So you thought you’d show up and wait for me to finish my Auror training for the day to lay into me about it?” Harry asked. Malfoy huffed and gestured wildly.

“Have you never learned the importance and polite etiquette of modern correspondence and the need for a hasty RSVP at one’s earliest convenience? How will the Ministry ever cope with you?” Malfoy went on ranting about punctuality and the etiquette of Owl exchange all the way to the Leaky. By that point Harry was desperately trying to hold in the laughter that wanted to escape him at the absurd lecture. Harry held the door for Malfoy and gave him an over exaggerated bow with a smirk. Malfoy went in with his nose upturned.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?” Harry asked as he scanned the pub for an available space for them to sit. Malfoy looked surprised at the invitation, and hesitated for a moment. He was studying Harry as if he was looking for Harry’s ulterior motive.

“Very well,” Malfoy finally agreed with a nod. “Just the one, though, I need to get back to the Manor for a financial meeting with my father.”

“Alright, there’s a couple of seats near the fire there,” Harry said, pointing to the empty table he saw. “You go get settled and I’ll get us a round. Pints okay with you, or would you like something else?”

“Mulled mead is fine,” Malfoy said and moved to go sit down. When Harry returned to sit with him after putting in their drink order he noticed that they were getting odd stares. Harry glanced around and noted that the crowd was different from the usual lunch crowd that was in earlier in the day. The lunch crowd had grown used to them meeting up after several weeks. Harry ignored them and turned to Malfoy.

“So,” he said, unsure where to start the conversation. He suddenly missed the budding friendship and the way they talked when they were just becoming friends, just two people trying to navigate a world that was ravaged by a war that they were forced to live through. Now that they had their agreement looming over them to pretend to date, Harry felt like everything had shifted, it felt different for no reason at all.

“Aren’t you just dying to give me a Pensieve-worthy recollection of your training this week?” Malfoy drawled lazily with a raised eyebrow.

“We always talk about that. Why don’t you tell me what it’s like managing all of your family’s business dealings?” Harry asked, not knowing why he suddenly cared. They usually avoided discussing anything in detail that could lead to difficult conversations about their past. He told himself it was because that was the way friendship worked, two people sharing information about each other.

“Well, it all might be a bit over your head,” Malfoy said with a twitch of his lips. Harry narrowed his eyes at him and Malfoy’s smile broke through. “It’s not very exciting, really. There’s just a great deal of numbers to look over and meetings.”

“Do you like doing it, then?” Harry asked. Their drinks arrived and Harry passed the mead over to Malfoy and took a sip from his pint. Their hands brushed briefly. Malfoy made a noncommittal noise, and Harry felt a pang of sadness for him. All he seemed to want to do was get into a study program to pursue something he was interested in.

“Alright, that’s enough about me,” Malfoy said and waved a hand at him. “Go on, I know your story is bursting at the seams to pour out of you like it has been every other time.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “Honestly, there hasn’t been anything wild this week. They just keep us very busy. I haven’t been able to find a minute to breath, let alone find time to be _polite_ and send off responses to owls like I sit on my arse all day,” he said with a sly grin.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and Harry continued on, “’Proper conduct’ — y’know, it sounds like your rules on etiquette are like the rubbish I read in one of my Muggle aunt’s romance novels. She tossed one out once and I nicked it to have something to read.”

“What — you —” Malfoy scoffed, offended, and lectured him again with wild gestures of his hands. “Potter, manners are an important _time-honored_ tradition of proper society and polite company, you absolute philistine!”

Harry almost snorted his pint through his nose he laughed so hard, full-bellied and full of warmth. When Harry could see again through the tears of mirth that had blurred his vision, he saw Malfoy staring at him with the oddest expression — unreadable and his cheeks flushing. Harry wondered if he’d offended him again. Malfoy shook his head and looked at a pocket watch much like the one Harry’d been given on his seventeenth birthday.

“I’d better be getting back. I shouldn’t keep my father waiting,” Malfoy said. Harry nodded and stood to grab his satchel bag. “Thank you for the drink, Potter.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “I promise I’ll be ready for our date on Friday night.”

That earned them a few gasps from the eavesdroppers surrounding them. Malfoy looked at Harry with surprise, and then a slow smile. “Until Friday, then.”

*******

On Friday Harry’s training schedule had been unbearable. They’d had coursework that involved making potions on the fly in the field, and the practical exam had left him sweaty, tired, and dirty. He’d barely made it back to the flat with enough time to shower and get himself cleaned up. He dressed haphazardly, mismatched socks and all.

Malfoy had, of course, arrived early.

“Oh Potter, no — _no_ , I can’t be seen with you like that! It’s all wrong — are your socks even matching?” Malfoy asked sharply. He grabbed Harry by the elbow and dragged him off down the hall. Harry muttered that his room was on the left after Malfoy opened the first door he came to and discovered the bathroom. Malfoy stalked towards Harry’s closet and browsed through his things, grimacing and scowling at each Weasley jumper he came across. “We’ll be late for our reservation,” he whinged to himself, in quite the strop. He finally selected a cable knit jumper and one of the only collared shirts Harry owned. Draco sighed longsufferingly over Harry’s lack of proper wizarding trousers and formal robes.

“I don’t like all the laces and fiddly buttons. They’re way more effort than a pair of denims or Muggle trousers,” Harry argued as he gathered his clothes and started to change. Malfoy was wearing some sort of wizard robe-Muggle suit hybrid that looked very buttoned up, and Harry hated the idea of being trapped in something like it.

“But you don’t even own _Muggle_ trousers — how do you expect to work in the Ministry and get through your adult life with only your Auror kit?” Malfoy asked distractedly. When he turned and noticed that Harry had his shirt off and was struggling to open the small buttons on the new shirt, he made a strangled noise that made Harry look up at him in alarm. He sounded like he’d swallowed his tongue. “What — are — you — _doing_?”

“I’m changing, you barmy twat,” Harry said in frustration as he wrestled the last of the buttons open so he could shrug the shirt on. “What does it bloody look like?”

“Why didn’t you go into the bathroom?” Malfoy asked and swung around on his heel to face the other direction, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulders.

“Because we’re going to be late, like you said, and because you’re a bloke?” Harry said as he shoved his shirttails into the nicest pair of denims that he owned. Hermione and Ginny had bought them for him when he had come out. “Did we not go to the same school where, for years, you lived in a dormitory with other boys your age? What, did you just pop into the loo to change for all those years, you prude?”

Malfoy snorted inelegantly and chanced a glance over his shoulder at Harry. He turned back around when he saw that Harry was covered again. “Hardly, but I wasn’t pretending to date them, was I? You don’t just strip down to your pants within the first five minutes of a date!”

“Oh for the love of Merlin,” Harry huffed out, his voice muffled as he tugged the sweater over his head. “We aren’t actually dating, it’s just us in here! We both _know_ that it isn’t real. Let’s just go and get this over with.”

Malfoy sniffed at him disdainfully and stalked out of his room towards the Floo. When they arrived at The Gilded Torch, Harry felt the heavy stares of the patrons and staff as they were guided to their table. The main room of the restaurant that they were led through had silk embroidered tapestries and draperies that covered every wall. Malfoy’s hand felt hot at the small of Harry’s back as he guided them through the room. The terrace felt like a summer evening rather than the chilly December night it actually was, and Harry could see that wizard space was used to fit the terrace in with the surrounding businesses. The atmosphere was nice, if overly romantic on the candlelit, charm-warmed terrace. It was separated from the street by an ivy-covered iron fence and there were hundreds of floating candles that lit the space. The candles reminded Harry a bit of Hogwarts and it helped to distract him as they took their seats and were handed a wine list.

“Thank you,” Harry said to their server and looked around to find the other diners shooting them curious glances. Some were openly staring at Harry Potter, out to dinner with Draco Malfoy, on the terrace reserved for romantic engagements. Harry was sure they made quite the sight. “You can pick the wine, I’m not really for it.”

“No, you surely wouldn’t have learned,” Malfoy said distractedly as he surveyed the list. “Do you think you’ll have seafood, poultry, or beef for dinner?”

Harry looked down at the menu that magically appeared before him with an elaborate charm that made it look like sparks of gold were unrolling the menu scroll. The items that were listed were all very fine things that Harry didn’t really comprehend; it all sounded very foreign in comparison to his usual tastes of meat pies and chips. He looked up and watched Malfoy glancing back and forth between the wine list and the menu. He made small humming sounds and squinted to read in the dim candlelight.

“You shouldn’t do that, you’ll end up needing glasses if you strain your eyes,” Harry said offhandedly, parroting things Hermione had drilled into him at one time or another from her array of facts and tidbits. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. Harry shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. His denims felt much too tight, something that he’d contested when he’d received them as a gift, and he wasn’t used to wearing a collared shirt; his throat felt like a small hand was trying to slowly suffocate him to death. It didn’t help his mood that they were being stared at and drawing attention, despite the fact that he should be used to it after so many years.

“I think I’ll have the fish selection,” Malfoy stated and went back to reading the wine list. Harry looked back at the menu and saw that it guided your meal based on your meat selection. As he wavered between chicken and fish the menu flickered back and forth between the two options he would be served all the way through dessert. He made a hum of surprise and decided on the fish, watching the menu flash once in gold before dissolving into gold sparkles.

“That’s a nifty bit of magic work,” Harry commented as he watched the wine list disappear in the same manner. Malfoy smiled tightly at him, like he was a small child, and Harry felt himself flush. Surely, growing up in the wizarding world, Malfoy would’ve been exposed to all sorts of fine dining establishments that used fancy charms to wow their diners. A bottle of chilled wine appeared on their table with a tiny pop and a waiter came to pour a taste for them. He faced Harry, who looked dumbfounded at the waiter’s expectant expression. The waiter ignored Malfoy completely, and Malfoy frowned in annoyance.

“I’ll do the tasting, if you please,” Malfoy drawled in the most aristocratic and icy tone Harry’d ever heard him use. The waiter snapped his spine straight and turned slowly to Malfoy, pouring a small amount of wine in Malfoy’s glass and standing back quickly, as if Malfoy would curse him. Malfoy paid the waiter no mind as he inhaled the wine and sipped at it. Harry watched him close his eyes for a moment before he swallowed, and Harry found himself fascinated by the movement of his throat. Malfoy nodded and the waiter poured their glasses and left them. Harry tasted the wine, trying to attempt the same small sip that Malfoy had taken, and was surprised to find it wasn’t overly sweet, like the wine Hermione liked. He looked down at the glass and then at Malfoy, who smirked at him and took another small sip. Harry’s eyes tracked the movement again. The man and woman seated at the table to their left were whispering none too quietly about them and Harry flicked an annoyed glance in their direction.

“Is this the kind of attention you were hoping to draw with our date?” Harry asked and he heard the woman at the table next to theirs gasp quietly. Malfoy’s smirk pulled into a full-blown smile and he glanced around the terrace, leaning closer to talk to Harry like he was sharing an intimate secret.

“It’s better than I’d hoped. No one can take their eyes away from our table for longer than a few minutes. Of course, it’ll take a few dates before people get used to the idea of seeing us out together. But in the meantime they can go home tonight and gossip about you,” he said and reached out to put his hand down on top of Harry’s. 

“Oh, can they? Brilliant,” Harry said sarcastically and gave Malfoy’s hand a brief squeeze before reaching for more wine. Once their meals arrived Harry noticed that most of the other diners on the terrace had returned their attentions back to their own dinners and left them well enough alone. Harry could see several couples seated very close, and one couple that were feeding each other. He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the mental image of himself feeding Malfoy that way, or vice versa. As they ate they kept their conversation light, if a bit stilted and more awkward than their lunches usually went. Harry was thrown off when Malfoy kept initiating things like holding his hand and tucking his foot around Harry’s calf, in full view of anyone who was looking at that moment. Malfoy kept oscillating between flashing him frustrated half-glares and smiling dopily at him like he was a besotted sod in love. It was a disconcerting act. They did survive their meal, though, and as they left the restaurant Harry could honestly say that he’d enjoyed it. The food had been very good.

“Do you mind if we walk by Wheezes? I just want to say hello to George while we’re in the area,” Harry asked as they ambled along the cobblestone street. Malfoy looked reluctant as he hesitated, but then he nodded and took Harry’s hand. His skin was smooth, and cooler than it’d been in the restaurant when he’d had it on Harry’s back and on his hands. Harry found himself automatically taking their clasped hands with his free hand, then rubbed Malfoy’s fingers to warm them. Malfoy looked at him sharply and shifted to walk closer to Harry. 

“You know, you haven’t been acting very boyfriend-like this entire evening,” he said in an unreadable tone. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, it is only our first date, Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Draco.”

“What?”

“Draco,” Malfoy said quietly. “Call me Draco when we’re out pretending to date, if you would.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. The only sound filling the chilled evening air was the echo of their footsteps against the cobblestones.

“Please,” Malfoy said quietly.

“Alright,” Harry said, and then just as softly, “Draco.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat for a moment at the way Malfoy’s eyes lit up under the lights of the streetlamps. As they walked down the street towards the main road of Diagon Alley, people stared at them. Malfoy shuffled closer to Harry as an icy breeze whipped past, and Harry wrapped his arm around his waist to walk more comfortably, Malfoy tucked against his side. Harry tried to ignore the fact that it felt nice to have him tucked there, warm and solid and smelling nice.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was lit up brightly in the night, the last of the evening’s patrons still milling about the store. Harry pulled away from Malfoy, but slid his hand down so it rested against his lower back to guide him through the shop to the counter where Ron and Hermione were teasingly bickering with each other. Hermione spotted them first and hopped down from her perch on the counter.

“Hello, Harry,” she greeted as they reached the counter. Her eyes flicked over to Malfoy momentarily before her attention was on Harry again. “How was your dinner date?”

“It was nice, the food was good,” Harry said and nudged Malfoy forward a step. “Draco got me to like wine.”

Harry was impressed that Ron only glanced at Harry for a brief moment with a flash of amusement in his eyes before he looked at Malfoy and held out his hand to shake. Malfoy took it without making any comments other than a polite, “Weasley. Granger.”

“Hello, Draco,” Hermione said with a nod. She looked between them curiously and turned to Harry again. “How did it go though, did people buy it?”

Malfoy looked at him sharply in alarm and Harry ran a hand through his hair.

“I told them the whole thing. I, uh — I hope that’s alright,” Harry said. He wouldn’t apologize for telling his friends. Malfoy pressed his lips together until they were a thin line. “We don’t really keep things from one another, after everything.”

“Does anyone else know?” Malfoy asked.

“No, just us and them,” Harry assured him. Harry saw George coming over and smiled brightly at him. “Hey, George!”

George narrowed his eyes at Malfoy’s presence and his eyes zeroed in on Harry’s hand, still resting against the small of Malfoy’s back. “Harry, Malfoy,” he greeted suspiciously.

“Uh...you remember, Draco? He’s...we’re er, that is —” Harry stumbled to get the words out when Malfoy came to his rescue.

“We’ve just returned from our first date. Harry and I are dating,” Malfoy said. George looked between the pair of them in shock and then burst out laughing. Malfoy’s lip curled up and he stepped back into Harry’s hand.

“That’s rich, innit Ron?” George asked through breathless laughter. “Malfoy and Harry, oi — did you lot give him something to get him to come in here with Harry like that?”

“I assure you no one has given me any potions or has me under any spell,” Malfoy said acidly. He huffed in annoyance and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and tugged him close. “Harry and I ran into each other in Diagon Alley several weeks ago and we’d been to lunch a few times when he’d finally worked up the courage to ask me out on a date.”

Ron buried his face in Hermione’s shoulder, using her wild curls to muffle his snorts of laughter. Hermione pinched his side and Harry tried to relax into Malfoy’s embrace to make it look believable. George’s laughter subsided when he saw Malfoy looking at Harry with that same dopey expression he’d worn all through their dinner. Harry turned to Malfoy and managed what he hoped was a convincing smile and brushed his fingers through Malfoy’s fringe, tucking a loose strand behind Malfoy’s ear. George cleared his throat and Harry looked at him.

“And you’re both just able to ignore what he’s done?” George asked incredulously and Harry felt annoyance rush through him.

“Yes,” Harry said. “We can’t live our whole lives staying stuck on the things we did at seventeen, can we?”

“I suppose Fred’ll never know, will he?” George said angrily.

“I apologize for any grievances my family or I have caused for you and your family in the past, Weasley,” Malfoy said quietly, and when Harry looked at him he was pretty sure Malfoy meant it sincerely. He looked contrite and was shifting uncomfortably at having to face the misdeeds of his past. George stared at him for several long moments before he nodded, his anger draining away into the weary exhaustion of someone still grappling with his grief.

“Right,” George said stiffly. “Right, well. As long as you _apologize_ , I guess that makes it all better, then.”

Malfoy inhaled sharply and took another fraction of a step closer to Harry, and Harry wondered if he’d ever tried to apologize to anyone else his family had hurt and if they’d not accepted his apologies well. He knew Malfoy already took the brunt of people’s hate against the actions of his father and Death Eaters in general when he put himself in the public eye. He knew George was just lashing out at Malfoy for representing the war in that moment; he knew Malfoy didn’t kill Fred.

“Draco was pardoned by the Wizengamot. George, we aren’t here looking for any trouble,” Harry said, giving Malfoy a squeeze to silently let him know it was alright. “We just stopped in to say hello. I’ll see you on Sunday at the Burrow, yeah?”

George nodded and Ron and Hermione walked out with them. Malfoy stayed tucked against his side, his fingers clutching and white-knuckled in the fabric of Harry’s cloak.

“Well, that went well,” Ron commented as they all made their way to the Apparition point at the end of Diagon Alley. Harry saw Hermione shoot Ron a dirty look and pinch his side again.

“Sorry, he’s still — with Fred, he’s still having a really rough time,” Harry murmured quietly in Malfoy’s ear.

“I understand,” Malfoy said just as quietly. Malfoy looked grey and paler than usual, his face drained of colour at having to face the war and the things that his mistakes had led to. Harry wondered why facing George had brought this out in him when he’d seen Malfoy face down the usual harassers with a determined face, even when they hexed and jinxed him. Harry heard him muttering _this has to work_ under his breath, and for the first time since the start of the whole plan he actually wanted their deception to work for Malfoy. Harry mentally cursed his thing for saving people, wishing he could just leave well enough alone sometimes, and absently rubbed his hand up and down Malfoy’s side as they walked.

*******

Harry and Malfoy had decided to meet at the gate to the Quidditch pitch for their next date. Harry smiled at Malfoy, hoping it reached the levels of besotted that Malfoy had managed at their dinner date the previous week. He’d decided to put an effort into making this work for Malfoy, after the way their first “date” had ended. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry in a brief hug when he reached him and planted a kiss on his cheek that smacked when he pulled away. Harry felt his cheeks get hot and Malfoy looked pleased with himself.

“Hello, Harry!” Malfoy said, acting every inch a man excited to see his boyfriend. He was wrapped up in a scarf that had the Falcon’s mascot emblazoned on it with the team’s motto written along the length of the scarf. The mascot bird spread its wings wide and flapped them while it puffed out its chest feathers.

“Hi, Draco,” Harry replied and quickly stepped forward to wrap him up in his arms in another embrace, avoiding getting trampled by the incoming sea of fans decked out in Falcons and Cannons memorabilia and colours. “Shall we?”

Malfoy offered his arm and stared at Harry pointedly until Harry got the message and hooked his own arm through it. He felt silly being escorted like this, and he chalked it up to Malfoy’s ridiculous _manners_ thing. He was supposed to have gone to this game with Ron, but Ron let him take Malfoy instead so that he wouldn’t have to find tickets at the last minute. Ron had told Harry that he owed him big time. Malfoy made interested sounds and pointed out people that were important and influential as they made their way to the preferred seating booths. They’d attracted quite a bit of attention as they’d made their way through the stands, with several people calling loudly to each other after they’d passed by _did you see that?_ and _was that Harry Potter on Draco Malfoy’s arm?_ in shocked tones. Malfoy acted like he hadn’t heard them, but Harry could see his pleased smirk out of the corner of his eye as they reached their section in the stands.

“How much do you want to wager that the Falcons crush the Cannons today?” Draco asked in Harry’s ear, giving the impression to anyone watching that he was whispering sweet nothings to Harry. Harry snorted indignantly and turned his head to find Draco’s ear.

“Don’t write them off that quickly, Draco. Their new Seeker is really stirring things up for them. Ron’s beside himself, always going on about how they’re going to beat the whole league this year and take the Championship Cup,” Harry said, his lips brushing against Draco’s ear. Draco shivered and Harry wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, figuring he was cold. He ran his hand up and down Draco’s side to warm him up. Harry didn’t really care for the Cannons, not as much as Ron did, but he felt obligated in Ron’s absence to defend their honour.

When the game was underway, Harry was surprised that it was actually exciting, considering that it was the Cannons, but he and Malfoy were both cheering and shouting along with the rest of the crowd. The Falcons’ Beaters were ruthless and kept aiming to knock the Cannons Chasers from their brooms, taking their team motto of breaking heads to heart. Then their own Chasers would swoop in with expert precision and snatch the Quaffle away. When the game lulled, Harry found himself getting distracted by Malfoy and kept watching him. He almost felt like it was sixth year at Hogwarts all over again. Had his lashes always been that long? Harry was lost in his thoughts, admiring the way Malfoy’s hair caught the light, like it used to when they’d played Quidditch against each other, when a voice interrupted him.

“You should keep staring at me, Harry, it’s a brilliant show of being an attentive boyfriend in love. I’m impressed, you’ve much improved since our date last week,” Malfoy said quietly without taking his eyes off of the players as they flew by. Harry got flustered and self-conscious and averted his eyes. He could only keep his eyes away from Malfoy for so long, he found out, as his eyes drifted back to studying Malfoy during the next lull in the game play.

Suddenly Malfoy jumped to his feet and pulled Harry up excitedly. Both Seekers from the Falcons and Cannons teams were soaring across the sky in an arc and falling into a dive together. They were flying neck and neck in pursuit of the Snitch, which Harry saw glinting near one of the lower stands. Malfoy and Harry were gripping each other’s hands tightly in excitement as they pressed forward as one to lean over and watch. For a moment Harry wondered if this is the kind of excitement people used to get from watching them going after the Snitch. Both Seekers were so close to each other, spiraling in their dives around one another with their arms outstretched in front of them. Harry wasn’t sure who was going to catch the little gold ball. And then it was over, the Falcons Seeker’s fist closed tightly around the Snitch, and both flyers pulled out of their dive.

Harry looked towards Malfoy with a grin and was struck by how alive he looked. His eyes were bright and he was grinning. Suddenly, in the excitement of the celebrating crowd around them, Malfoy dove towards Harry, grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him. Harry was momentarily shocked, even though they’d talked about and agreed to kissing. When Draco’s lips moved against his he felt himself relaxing and his hands automatically came up to hold Draco to him. Harry tentatively pulled him closer and moved his hand up to thread his fingers through Draco’s hair. Harry was surprised at how soft Draco’s lips were, and he wanted to taste more of them. He slowly opened his mouth and pressed closer, capturing Draco’s bottom lip between his and sucking gently on it. Draco stiffened and then made a small desperate sound, opening his mouth to Harry. Their tongues brushed lightly, carefully against each other and then Harry was devouring Draco’s mouth. Draco made another noise and melted against him, clutching at Harry’s shoulders with one hand and brushing the sensitive skin on the back of Harry’s neck with the other. It was so much more than Harry had ever expected, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget it. Just as suddenly as they’d started, they both pulled apart in surprise. Harry brought his fingers to his lips and stared at Draco with wide eyes. Draco looked just as flustered as Harry felt, and then he shook himself and Harry watched as his mask fell back into place. He flashed Harry a dopey smile and caressed his face.

“Let’s go back to yours so we can celebrate,” he said loudly and Harry glanced around at the other people seated in their booth that had watched them kiss and were now staring at them like they were a program on Muggle television. Harry nodded, not trusting himself to talk, and took his hand. Malfoy gave him a salacious wink and then smirked over his shoulder at a girl who had been sitting next to them and had stared hopefully at Harry throughout the game. Harry glanced back at her and saw her looking rather put out. Harry looked at Malfoy and saw his smirk grow into a sly cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “Will I get a _reward_ for my team winning today?”

Harry quickly towed Malfoy along to the Apparition area to Side-Along them to the spot they’d agreed upon before coming to the game today. Malfoy was snickering into his shoulder and trailing his hands over Harry’s chest.

“Alright, Harry, there’s no need to rush — we have all night to celebrate,” Malfoy said loudly, drawing more attention to them, and Harry had to tamp down on the urge to hush the bastard. He wanted to growl at him in frustration, but he was sure it would only fuel Malfoy to make a comment about Harry being an animal. Harry wished that Malfoy’s teasingly light touches weren’t making his cock twitch in interest. When Harry Apparated them, he wrapped both of his arms around Malfoy’s waist and held Malfoy tighter than was strictly necessary when Malfoy pressed his soft lips against Harry’s neck.

They released each other as soon as they were in the sitting room of Harry’s flat. Harry ran a hand through his hair and watch as Malfoy straightened his clothes meticulously.

“So, er...what time do you want to meet back here to leave for breakfast in Diagon Alley tomorrow?” Harry asked. He pointedly did not bring up their kiss.

“I shall return promptly at half-eight, so be ready, Potter,” he said. “Please remember to leave your Floo open for me.”

Harry nodded and walked him over to the fireplace. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Malfoy tipped an imaginary hat to him and was gone in a swirl of green flames. Harry rubbed his hands over his face and flopped onto his back on the sofa with a groan.

He shouldn’t have kissed Malfoy like that, they’d had an agreement.


	3. PART 3

Draco found himself hesitating before his Floo connection the next morning just before half-eight when he was meant to be back over at Potter’s flat so they could have their final pretend date. After today they would stage a breakup, and then it would be over. He only hoped that his scheme had worked and that this farce with Potter made people stop using him as their scapegoat for everything that had happened during the war. If this plan hadn’t worked, well — he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He took a steadying breath and called out for Potter’s flat into the flames as he stepped into the fireplace. 

When he stepped neatly over the grate he saw Potter waiting for him on the sofa, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Draco felt his stomach flip over at the sleepy look on Potter’s face, and a part of him deep down wondered if it might have been nice to wake up to Potter looking like that next to him. That drowsy look made Draco want to snog him and he tamped down on his wayward thoughts.

“Morning,” Potter said as he sipped his tea. “Do you want a cuppa?”

“No, I’ll wait until we get to the café,” Draco answered. “Are you ready to go?”

“Mhm,” Potter hummed as he hauled himself up from the sofa. “Let me put this in the sink and then we can go.”

Draco had a busy morning planned out for them. After they ate together at the new pastry and tea shop that had opened, Draco planned to drag Potter off to Gladrags Wizardwear for some proper wizarding attire. Making sure he had some wardrobe staples that he’d need as an employee of the Ministry and as their world’s Saviour was the least he could do to thank Potter for his help. When Potter returned from the kitchen he held out his arm for Draco to take and it took Draco half a second too long to realize why.

“Are you not a morning person, either?” Potter teased.

Draco took a hold of his arm and Potter Apparated them to their destination. As they strolled together down the street Potter took his hand and Draco arranged his face into his best impression of the besotted, well-shagged boyfriend. “I haven’t tried this new café yet, have you? Andromeda said that she liked it when she took Teddy last month.”

“I haven’t tried it yet,” Draco said, his attention stuck on Potter’s mention of his estranged aunt. “Teddy?”

“Oh — right, Andromeda’s your — I always forget,” Potter said with the easy lopsided smile that he was generous with. “I suppose you’re related, then, since Andromeda’s daughter Tonks was your cousin. Remus Lupin married Tonks and they had Teddy just before the battle at Hogwarts. They —,” Potter paused and cleared his throat, looking away from Draco. Draco squeezed his hand and silently urged him to go on. Potter cleared his throat once more and continued in a rough voice with bright, shining eyes. “They both died fighting to protect Hogwarts. Teddy is my godson, but Andromeda’s his grandmother so she’s raising him. I visit him as often as I can. I don’t want him to miss out on any of the things that I did.”

Draco was in a stunned silence, unable to find words for some of the heavy things Potter had just laid on him in the middle of the cobblestone street as they walked to breakfast. He squeezed Potter’s hand again, in silent support. They reached the café before Draco could find anything to say and Potter ushered him inside. Draco went to the counter and ordered them a selection of pastries and toast to go with their tea, and turned to find Potter looking cosy in a cushioned booth along the wall.

“Hiding our relationship with this seat, are we?” Draco asked mildly as he sat.

“No, I just didn’t fancy sitting by the window,” he replied. Draco let it slide since they’d be walking around Diagon and making a spectacle of themselves with ice cream by early afternoon. When their order arrived at the table Potter’s eyebrows shot up, surveying the wide selection of things Draco had picked out. “Someone has a serious sweet tooth problem.”

“I,” Draco said and then paused as a sticky bun was set directly in front of him, the sweet, fresh and warm scent wafting up into his nose. It was divine and Draco fully intended to devour it. “Yes,” he finished. He picked up the warm sticky bun, forgoing a fork for once and eagerly sank his teeth into the warm bun. He moaned as the sugary glaze hit his taste buds and the flaky pastry melted on his tongue. “Oh, sweet Merlin, that is divine.”

Draco ate the entire thing and was licking his fingers clean of the sticky glaze when he looked up and noticed Potter staring at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His mouth was hanging open slightly and Draco reached out his free hand to close it. “Sorry I didn’t save you any, I was greedy,” he said and Potter made a faint wheezing sound. Draco smirked and set about making his tea, adding milk and two sugars.

“Is there anywhere in particular that you need to go after this or are we just going to aimlessly walk around?” Potter asked, seeming to find his words again. Draco held up his tea with two hands and studied Potter over the rim.

“Our first stop will be Gladrags to get you some proper trousers,” Draco said and waited for Potter’s reaction. He was rewarded with Potter choking on a jam covered biscuit and he flicked his wand with a silent _Anapneo_ to clear Potter’s airway. He smirked and raised his eyebrows at him pointedly. “You only have denims — and only one pair that I count as passable. A respectable Auror is going to need a pair or two of proper wizard trousers. If you’d like we can even go into Muggle London later and find you a suitable Muggle pair as well.”

“I — alright, fine,” Potter grudgingly agreed and gave up his chances at arguing with Draco. Draco smiled and leaned back against the cushion of the booth and selected a small frosted confection that he popped into his mouth.

“Oh, wow — this one is even better than the sticky bun. Here, you have to try this, Harry. Open up!” Draco said as he held up another confection to Potter’s lips. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the witch that was waiting on tables had stopped to watch the exchange.

Potter’s eyes burned into his and he slowly parted his lips and allowed Draco to push the treat past them. Draco smiled and was about to pull away when Potter leaned forward a fraction to capture his fingers between his teeth gently. Potter’s tongue curled around his fingers and he sucked the frosting off of them until they were clean. Draco’s smile dropped and he felt his cock go half-hard. He shifted on the velveteen purple cushion and tried to calm himself down when he snatched his hand back to his side. His heart rate was pounding at breakneck speed and he was trying to discreetly take a breath to get some much-needed air to his lungs. Potter was playing dirty for Draco springing a clothes-shopping trip on him. Draco narrowed his eyes at Potter, who had the audacity to wink at him. _Two can play at that game, Harry, and I’m the best there is at it_ , he thought. He would lay in wait, but he would get Potter back for that display. _Just you wait, you smug bastard_ , he thought.

The rest of their breakfast passed without incident and when they walked out into the chilly December morning Draco shifted closer to Potter, who wandlessly cast a warming charm over them. Draco found these little displays of his magnitude of power to be impressive and enticing. They walked hand in hand to Gladrags Wizardwear, where Potter was silent and grumpy through his fitting as Draco and the shop witch tilted their heads and made him try on endless pairs of wizarding trousers. They ended up selecting three pairs with the least amount of buttons Gladrags offered, as well as a new set of formal robes that resembled something close to a Muggle tuxedo and a set of casual robes that could be worn to semi-formal and informal outings. Draco nodded as they left, sure that he’d steered Potter in the right direction.

“Thanks, I guess, I did like those formal robes,” Potter said and rubbed the back of his neck. Draco gave him a self-satisfied smirk and a small bow.

“Were my heart not set on the Healer program, maybe I would have eventually found my way in the world of fashion,” Draco answered and Potter snorted at his antics.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight to see,” Potter laughed.

They meandered along Diagon Alley, ducking into different shops and browsing around. They slowly made their way towards Fortescue’s, where they each got chocolate and mint scoops of ice cream. Potter had a small cone and Draco had a rather large one.

“I can’t believe I let you get that size,” Potter teased as he finished off his cone. They were seated on a bench outside and Potter’s arm rested behind him along the back of the bench.

“You’re just jealous because I can handle big things,” Draco teased and held his cone close to Potter’s mouth. “Here, have a taste and help me finish this. I’m still feeling full from our breakfast and if you don’t help me I’ll have to lick up all of the parts that melt down my hand.”

“Lucky for me then that Fortescue’s has excellent stasis and cooling charms on their ice cream,” Potter said with a smirk and carefully closed his hand around Draco’s wrist and brought the ice cream closer. Draco cursed his own idea when Potter’s pink tongue darted out and licked at his ice cream cone, making a pleased humming sound at the taste. Draco’s trousers felt tight again as he watched Potter eating some of his ice cream. Potter’s eyes flicked up to meet his on a particularly lewd swipe and Draco tugged his wrist free. He leaned forward without thinking and captured Harry’s lips in a cold kiss, tasting the mint and chocolate flavors that lingered there. Draco held himself in tight control this time, vowing not to get overexcited and snog Potter on a bench in the middle of Diagon Alley. Merlin, but the man could kiss though. He pressed closer to Harry and their mouths moved slowly against each other. Draco could feel Harry’s fingertips lightly brushing across his cheek to cup his face, and he was aware that at some point he’d closed his eyes. Harry held him there, with his hand sliding from Draco’s cheek to the back of his neck and his fingers threading through the hair there, and it made the press of their lips go on longer than it necessarily needed to.

The flash of a camera was what made them part in surprise. Potter stared at him and ran his thumb across Draco’s cheek again. Draco wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him again. He wanted to spend every moment of the day kissing Harry. He turned and saw that the person with the camera was a photographer for the Daily Prophet who was already hurrying down the street to the Prophet’s offices.

“I expect we’ll see that in the special Evening Edition, if not sooner,” Draco said. He was suddenly aware of the fact that this was the end of his fake dates with Harry and he bit his lip.

“I’ve got to get going,” Potter said and Draco turned to look at him. Potter had an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes studied Draco, flicking back and forth as their eyes met. “I’m due at the Burrow for Sunday lunch with the Weasleys. It’s every Sunday.”

“Okay,” Draco said, unsure of where this left them. “Lunch this week?” He asked hopefully, hoping he hid his tone.

“Yeah, I’ll Owl you later so we can make a date,” Potter said and Draco didn’t know what to make of that. Did Potter mean a real date or another fake one? He was left wondering as he watched Potter walking away towards the Apparition point.

*******

The Prophet put out a midday exclusive edition, which was exactly what Draco had been hoping for when they’d selected Diagon Alley on a Sunday as their final pretend date. Draco stared down at the paper that he clutched in a white-knuckled grip. It was a large, above the fold photo of their kiss in Diagon Alley, and Draco could see it plain as day the way that Potter looked at him when he caressed his cheek and kissed him before he’d closed his eyes, too. The photo made his heart flutter and he shook his head. It wasn’t real, it was just an act. He had to admit, Potter impressed him with his acting skills after a rocky start. Draco took a breath and looked down at the headline. There were mixed reviews on their apparent relationship.

__**BOY WHO LIVED DATING FORMER ACCUSED DEATH EATER?**  
By Rita Skeeter  
The Daily Prophet’s Gossip Correspondent 

_Harry Potter, famously known and celebrated as the Boy Who Lived and Saviour of the wizarding world for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all in May at the Battle of Hogwarts, was spotted multiple times over the weekend and in recent days in the company of Draco Malfoy, alleged Death Eater and son of confirmed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. Potter and Malfoy are both well known by their fellow Hogwarts alumni for having had an intense rivalry between their respective houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Their schoolyard rivalry seems to have blossomed into a surprising romance._

_The pair was spotted last week dining at the exclusive Gilded Torch’s couple’s terrace, and this weekend at the Cannons v. Falcons Quidditch match where they reportedly shared a passionate kiss and were quoted to discuss going back to Potter’s home to celebrate. The couple was said to look very happy together and quite in love. This reporter can neither confirm nor deny these corroborated reports, but she can tell you that Potter and Malfoy were seen again this morning in Diagon Alley arriving together and sharing breakfast, feeding one another, and canoodling in broad daylight on the street. This reporter is shocked at the influence that Draco Malfoy holds so far over Harry Potter, sure to corrupt him should this questionable ‘relationship’ continue._

_It was also reported that the couple has been seen having lunches for as long as four weeks now, starting shortly after Lucius Malfoy’s sentence of house arrest from the Wizengamot was passed. Until recently, the Boy Who Lived was assumed to be settling down with his long-time childhood sweetheart, Ginevra Weasley, with whom the wizarding world at large had hoped to be witnesses to a fairy tale wedding that would shine light in this post-war time of need. Now witches and avid Potter fans everywhere are heartbroken to learn that Harry Potter seems to fly for both teams, not caring whether he takes witches or wizards to his bed._

_Friends and family, as well as the supposedly happy couple, could not be reached for comment at this time. This reporter can only hope that if this relationship continues that it does not lead our beloved Saviour astray from his noble heart and his good sense.  
_

“Only because you didn’t reach out to ask, you blood thirsty harpy,” Draco muttered. He frowned as he read the headline and skimmed the article. _Well, we certainly made a splash and an impression at least_ , he thought to himself. Draco was sure Potter would be fuming over this article. Draco sighed and was about to toss the paper in the fire, only to stop at the last minute when the photo caught his eye again. He ran a finger carefully over Potter’s face and watched as the photo replayed over and over again. Surely they didn’t look that in love with each other in reality, there was no possible way Potter had actually looked at him that way. And Draco certainly didn’t recall nuzzling into Potter’s neck after their kiss. He sighed again and put the paper on his desk and went over to the sideboard to pour himself a finger of Firewhisky before he went back to work examining that month’s numbers.

*******

When Draco went down to the dining room for dinner that night, his mother stopped him just outside the door. He smiled and kissed her cheek. She’d gotten some of her colour back and was looking much more relaxed now that Father was home, albeit under house arrest, but there with her.

“Good evening, darling. I’ve asked the elves to make your favourite tonight,” she said as she directed him to a small settee that sat in the parlour outside of the dining room. She perched next to him and reached into the pale folds of her evening robes and pulled out a scroll. “Here, I’d like to send this to Harry Potter and invite him to dinner.”

“Oh?” Draco asked as he unrolled the parchment. Bugger, he hadn’t considered that his mother would see the paper and take an interest. Now he’d have to convince Potter to come to his house, where his friends were captured and tortured during the war. His stomach rolled at the thought and he had to take a deep, calming breath. It was a formal invitation, much like the one he’d sent to officially invite Potter to their first date, with self-embossing ink and his mother’s delicate calligraphy script.

_Greetings Mr. Potter,_

_I would like to extend a formal invitation to dine with my family and I on the 24th of December, 1998. Please send your RSVP at your earliest convenience, along with any concerns you have for allergies or food tastes. I am delighted to welcome you into my home to celebrate your newfound relationship with my beloved son, and I am looking forward to greeting you in a new light._

_I eagerly await your reply._

_Sincerely,  
Narcissa Malfoy_

His mother wanted to invite Potter over for dinner in their viper pit of a home, where the Dark Lord had resided, on Christmas Eve. Merlin, Draco needed a drink. He carefully rolled the invitation back up and handed it back to his mother, who was watching him with a keen eye. He hoped he’d been able to school his expressions while he’d read, but he knew that had been a fool’s wish.

“What a wonderful gesture, Mother, I am sure that Po — Harry will very much appreciate the invitation,” Draco said, stumbling over Potter’s name. He had two weeks to convince Potter to come to his home on Christmas Eve.

“How excellent, I will have one of the house elves send this off with my owl at once,” Narcissa said and directed him back towards the dining room. “Now, let’s enjoy our dinner!”

*******

By the time they’d had lunch together on Wednesday, two more articles by Rita Skeeter, one from Witch Weekly, and even an odd one from the Quibbler had come out about Potter and Draco. Skeeter had continued to report mixed reviews while lacing her articles with unsubtle jabs at Draco, his past, his family, and his unscrupulous behavior that was “leading poor Harry Potter astray”. The Witch Weekly article had been equally mixed, choosing instead to focus on the broken hearted masses of witches that were holding out hopes that Harry would choose them over Ginevra Weasley. The Quibbler article had been the only one that showed full support of their pretend relationship, even going so far as to quote some of the students that had been in their year at Hogwarts about the underlying “sexual tension” between them and the strict standards that society oppressed them with, and then it went on to celebrate the fact that they had found love in each other and what a wonderful thing it was.

Draco would have to send Luna Lovegood a gift basket. He even considered the merits of sending two when he was forcefully cast out of another potential apothecary on the seedier side of London in another wizarding district. Being refused another potential for apprenticeship hung heavily over his head, and the only thing that cheered him up was that Potter had been an amusing part of his day when they’d met for lunch the day before. But it seemed that Draco’s plan of three pretend dates had failed miserably — he was still being turned down for work that he was seeking, and the more popular and mainstream publications weren’t helping to improve his standing with the public. He was in a dour mood, and without thinking he spun and Apparated to Potter’s flat to track him down on a rare day off from Auror training.

Draco was momentarily surprised that he’d been able to Apparate directly into the small flat at all. He supposed that the wards were still keyed to allow him access. He only allowed himself to be distracted by the wards for a moment before he stomped his way through the sitting room and barged into Potter’s room. Potter, who’d been dozing, leapt out of bed at the sight of him with a shout as his reflexes scrambled for his wand.

“Wow, Potter, pride of the Academy, you are. Going to make a fine Auror with reflexes like those,” Draco said with an arched eyebrow. Potter clutched desperately at his chest, likely trying to calm himself from heart failure. Draco smirked and flopped down gracelessly onto Potter’s bed, where he had an excellent view of Potter’s pajama-clad arse. He gave a dramatic sigh and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“It isn’t working,” he complained loudly.

“What isn’t? Potter asked distractedly as he placed his wand back on the side table.

“The dates!” Draco said exasperatedly. “Three dates did nothing to improve the wizarding public’s opinion of me or my family. All they’ve done is whinge about the witches who can’t win your heart — as if they’d ever had a chance — and whether or not you’ll come out as exclusively currying favour with just one gender or if witches and wizards alike can woo you.”

He looked up at Potter who was looking down and studying him with a faint smile. “Do my dramatics and misery amuse you, Potter?”

“Yes,” he answered. Potter ran a hand through his hair and shrugged after a moment. “Alright, well I’ll just keep pretending to be your boyfriend indefinitely, then.”

Draco stared up at Potter, shocked that he would offer that up so freely without bargaining for something in return. He wondered if this is what true friendship was like. It was so different from the relationships he had with the students of his own house and members of his own family.

“I — are you sure?” Draco asked, unsure of why he was even giving Potter a window for escape instead of pouncing on the opportunity. Potter shrugged again and nodded and Draco felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Sure,” Potter said easily. “So I guess that means I need to accept your mother’s invitation to dinner, then?”

“Yes, if you’d like to not commit social suicide,” Draco answered. He sat up too quickly and felt dizzy and lightheaded. “I — ah — I know it can’t be a comfortable place to be for you, I’ll be sure that they serve dinner far away from the section of the Manor that you saw the last time you were there.”

“I would appreciate that,” Potter said gruffly and ducked his head.

*******

When Potter arrived, Draco was impressed to see him in a fine set of semi-formal robes appropriate for a Christmas Eve dinner. The sight of him standing in the white marble of the Floo entry hall made Draco’s breath catch for a moment. Potter smiled shyly at him and glanced around nervously. Draco hurried forward to offer his arm to escort Potter into the parlour where his parents were before dinner was served.

“I’m very impressed by your robe selection tonight,” Draco murmured quietly to him as he escorted them along the long hallway, passing portraits of his ancestors who gaped at the sight of him escorting a man through Malfoy Manor. Potter flushed and twitched nervously, his hand shooting up to toy with his fringe before he remembered himself and snapped it back to his side.

“Er — thanks. Hermione helped,” Potter said. “Do we have a, um, story — about us, I mean?”

“I haven’t told them officially that you’re my _boyfriend_ now, actually,” Draco answered, a cheeky grin playing at the corner of his lips. His mother had kept the paper from his father, as far as he knew. “I was planning on making the announcement tonight.”

Before Potter could say anything about what Draco had said they reached the parlour. Draco bowed deeply to his parents as he escorted Potter inside and stepped aside and held his arm out to present Potter. Potter looked at him for moment before a quirk of Draco’s eyebrow made him give a half-hearted bow as well.

“Mother, Father, may I present Harry Potter,” he said as they stepped further into the room. Potter nodded stiffly to Lucius, who replied in kind and then remained silent. Potter smiled in the warm way that made Draco’s stomach flutter at his mother and took her delicate hand in his.

“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy,” Potter said and pressed a brief kiss to her knuckles before straightening up. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I’ve brought you a gift, I know it’s rude to show up without one when you’re invited,” he added and pulled a small trinket out of his robe pocket. When he took out his wand to enlarge the gift Lucius flinched and then played it off like he hadn’t. The gift turned out to be a bottle of wine — the same wine, it would seem, that Draco had selected when they’d had their first date at the Gilded Torch. He smiled to himself, inexplicably pleased that Potter had hunted it down.

“Oh, how charming, thank you, Mr. Potter!” Narcissa said and snapped her fingers for a house elf. She handed over the bottle and turned back to Potter. “Please, do call me Narcissa.”

“I — okay,” Potter said, looking around to Draco for help. Draco nodded encouragingly and sidled over to stand by his father.

“We have a gift for you, as well, for the holiday,” his mother said, and another house elf appeared with a small, ornately wrapped gift on a silver platter. She plucked the gift up and offered it to Potter. “Please accept this gift.”

Potter took the gift and held it carefully in his hands before slowly opening it and revealing a box of gourmet chocolates, the same brand that his mother always had imported for Draco from Paris for his care packages. Potter smiled graciously and bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you.”

“It is only a small token of the gratitude that my family owes you for your deeds, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa said. Potter looked uncomfortable and was starting to fidget again.

“You can call me Harry, please, Mr. Potter sounds really formal,” he said and glanced sideways at Draco again. Narcissa inclined her head and took a seat, followed by Potter and Lucius. Draco remained standing.

“I have an announcement I’d — well, we — would like to make,” Draco said and gestured for Potter to join him. When Potter came to his side Draco wrapped an arm around his waist and subtly stroked his fingers up and down Potter’s side. “Harry and I have been dating, and we have recently made it an official relationship. So, if I may present him again,” Draco said as he stepped away and held his arm out to present Potter a second time. “Harry Potter, my boyfriend.”

Narcissa clapped her hands and made a delighted sound, while Lucius lost all composure and dropped the glass of champagne he’d been holding. The colour had drained from his face and Narcissa was fretting by his side. Lucius made a show of swallowing thickly and then got a hold of himself and his composure. He examined them both with a cold, calculating eye.

“Is that so? Your boyfriend, did you say?” Lucius asked, and Draco nodded, immediately feeling the heavy gaze of his father and feeling like he was a seven-year-old who had spilled the expensive brandy. “How… advantageous. A great match, surely,” he said after a pause in a smooth, measured tone. Draco relaxed marginally, glad that it wasn’t an evening for shouted ravings.

“Well, I like him, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Potter answered curtly and stepped back to Draco’s side, enveloping him in a strong embrace. Draco took great comfort in his steady presence. 

“I only hope that your — romantic liaison with him brings this family good fortune, Mr. Potter,” Lucius said. Potter frowned and gave Draco a squeeze. Watching Potter and his father was like watching a birdie being batted back and forth.

With a high-pitched pop, a house elf interrupted the conversation to inform them that dinner was served. Potter took Draco’s hand as they made their way together to the dining room. The first two courses were strained and awkward, with his father’s incessant questions on business dealings and his mother’s somewhat intrusive questions into their _relationship_.

“Lucius, please, no business discussion at the dinner table. It’s improper and impolite when we have a guest,” Narcissa chided, and then took a dainty sip from her soup.

Potter was looking down in confusion at his place setting, eyeing up the amount of utensils and not touching his food. Draco gently nudged his foot under the table and discreetly gestured to the correct spoon when he had his attention. The conversation became stilted, until it was just Narcissa discussing the merits of visiting Paris or the Swiss Alps over the holidays. Suddenly, when they were partially through the main entrée, Lucius turned to Potter.

“Mr. Potter, you are training to become an Auror now, are you not?” he asked, and Draco wasn’t sure where this line of questioning would lead. He exchanged a glance with his mother and pretended not to be hanging on every word of their conversation.

“Yes, that’s right,” Potter answered.

“And is this how you and my son met?” Lucius pressed on.

“Ah — yes, actually. We — ran into each other while I was on patrol,” Potter glanced at him and flashed him a smirk before continuing. “We struck up a friendship from there, but I secretly think it’s the uniform that made Draco fall for me in the first place.”

Draco almost choked on his duck. Sure, the uniform was fetching on Potter — it made him look even more imposing, but the truth was that he’d been rescuing Draco from an angry group of harassers that had been hexing him. He hadn’t informed his parents of how difficult the wizarding public could be to deal with.

“I see,” Lucius said tightly, his eyes flicking to Draco for a brief moment. “And what of you? What made you, as you put it, _fall_ for my son?”

Potter paused for a long moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts and searching for the right words to answer the question.

“I admit, it took me by surprise,” he said slowly, with a faint grin. “Draco is difficult to ignore, after all. But we — ah — connected, and I found myself falling for his determination. I admire that in a person.”

“I see. I must admit, Mr. Potter, it’s a surprising turn of events that you would turn out to have this… _disposition_ ,” Lucius said after a pause. Potter’s eyes flashed and narrowed.

“Yes, well, I was a little busy in my formative years to really have the opportunity to know one way or the other. You might remember, as we met so many times during my years at Hogwarts,” he said. Draco watched as his father’s hand twitched towards his wand and then froze. Potter sat up very straight and stared Lucius down. “And I find it surprising that you care either way about my _disposition_ , when it leads to your son — who shares that disposition, in case you’d missed that — finding someone he’s happy with.”

“Happiness?” Lucius scoffed and drank deeply from his wine glass. “Happiness is for commoners, all my son needs to worry about is power and prestige.”

“Yes, because that’s worked out so well for you, hasn’t it?” Potter asked and Draco’s breath caught. The tension in the room was palpable, crackling with the static of built up power coming head to head.

“I’ll thank you both not to talk about me as if I’m not here,” Draco said evenly, and Potter immediately focused his attention on him, looking slightly apologetic, but still annoyed and tightly wound.

“And I will thank you gentlemen to refrain from insensitive topics of conversation over dinner, please,” Narcissa added coolly. Potter looked guilty and stared at Draco silently. 

“Apologies, my dear, you know I only wish to know what his intentions are toward our son. I want to be sure that they were true,” Lucius said placatingly. Draco wanted to roll his eyes at his father, but the years of being his trained crup overrode the desire to rebel.

“They’re serious intentions,” Potter said and Draco saw a familiar unreadable expression on his face.

The rest of the evening passed with relative, if awkward, ease with conversations returning to the strained air they’d had at the start of the dinner. Potter stayed through pudding and a nightcap after dinner before thanking his mother for the invitation, nodding curtly at his father, and taking Draco’s arm to be escorted back to the Floo.

“That went well,” Potter deadpanned.

“Yes, well, as well as could have been expected, I suppose,” Draco said with a weary smile. The evening had been exhausting. As they stood before the Floo Draco noticed that several of the paintings were watching. He tried to convey that silently with his eyes to Potter with a series of expressions. Potter smirked at him for a moment before being unable to hold in a snort of laughter.

“You’d never do well in the Covert Operations and Protocols course,” Potter said and stepped closer to Draco. Draco could feel the warmth from his body radiating towards him.

“That’s what I have you for, Mr. Star Auror,” Draco said before quickly pressing his lips against Potter’s in a brief kiss goodnight. He lingered after Potter left through the Floo and stared into the flames.

*******

Several weeks after the New Year, Draco arranged for them to have lunch or dinner together a couple of nights a week after the first dinner they’d had at the Manor with his family on Christmas Eve. They quickly grew into a routine and sometimes found themselves in each other’s company more often than their scheduled meet ups. Draco became a staple at Potter’s flat, staying late into the night watching Muggle telly-vision with Potter and Weasley. It had made Draco uncomfortable at first, trying to work out how the Muggles had figured out how to shrink themselves and fit into the box — surely no one could fit in there. But Weasley and Potter had both explained it to him, and then Draco quickly became addicted to it.

They were having lunch at the tea shop in Diagon Alley, a spot Potter indulged his choosing of often. Draco was trying to find the right words to broach the subject and bring up the request his mother asked that morning.

“You’re not eating half your weight in pastries today, what’s wrong?” Potter asked and nudged his favourite frosted confections closer to Draco’s reach.

“My mother insists on having you over for dinner at least once every other week,” Draco said, deciding to just come out with it. “She’s beside herself with wanting to get to know you better. She’s been all over me about the prospect of wedding bells in our future — you’re selling it a bit too well.”

Potter looked alarmed at that and reached for the jam covered biscuits. “When?”

“Whenever it would be convenient, I suppose. We can’t do Fridays since you’ve been going out with friends if we don’t have any plans. Saturday or Sunday would probably be best,” Draco said absently, stealing a biscuit from Potter’s plate. 

“Well, I’m already obligated to Sundays at the Burrow with the Weasleys,” Potter protested in reminder. “Do I really have to come and spend even more time around your father?”

“Oh, yes, all that ginger hair and so many freckles — that’s a wonderful influence for you to be around week after week,” Draco scoffed.

Draco realized what a mistake it was as soon as Potter shot him a hurt look like a kicked crup. Then Potter looked annoyed and angry, his brows knit tightly together in a scowl. He stood from their usual booth at the tea shop and stormed out of the shop in a huff. Draco jumped up from the table and threw down a handful of Galleons without even counting them, rushing out to follow Potter.

Draco tracked him down before Potter could get too far. He was afraid that Potter would stop pretending to be his boyfriend and would stop helping him. He was even afraid that Potter would stop being his friend full stop.

“Harry, wait! I’m sorry — I didn’t — I didn’t really mean what I said,” Draco apologized, haltingly. He reached out and gripped at Potter’s wrist to hold him in place. Potter’s shoulders were tense and Draco held his breath. Then Potter sighed and all of the tension drained out of him. Potter took his hand and led him to a narrow alcove between two shops.

“Look, don’t insult the Weasleys,” Potter said, absently toying with the edge of his jumper. It had a large ‘H’ on it, and Draco hadn’t believed Potter had worn it out in public. Potter looked down at the ground, and then added quietly, “They’re the only family that I’ve really got.”

Draco felt his heart clench tightly and he nodded.

*******

The music of the pub was loud and it pounded through his whole body, while the entire place smelled of stale sweat and ale. Draco couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this, but he supposed if they were going to continue the ruse that he’d have to be seen out with Potter everywhere, even on social outings with his friends. He’d been the one to insist on being out and about with Potter whenever he went out as the weeks went on.

Potter also refused to be a decent gentleman and wear the wizard trousers or Muggle trousers he’d helped pick out, which were sensible options to wear with wizard robes. No, instead Potter insisted on wearing those sinfully distracting Muggle denims that hugged his arse a little too well. Draco caught himself openly staring — and possibly salivating a little, for Salazar’s sake — and had to shake himself to pull his eyes away from the magnetic pull of Harry Potter’s arse. If only he could really have more than just his hands on it on rare occasions.

“Ah, don’t blame yourself, Malfoy, the bloke has a nice arse — s’only right you gettin’ to stare at your boyfriend’s arse!” Finnigan said in his thick Irish brogue and slapped him on the shoulder with enough force to rock him sideways into Lovegood, who just smiled at him serenely in response. Draco surreptitiously rubbed his shoulder and shot Potter a desperate look as he returned to the table with a round of drinks floating behind him.

“Okay, everyone, drinks all around!” Potter said, and everyone cheered. Draco glanced around at the rambunctious bunch and couldn’t believe he found himself surrounded by mostly ex-Gryffindors and the occasional Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. He resolved to try and talk Pansy, Blaise, or Theo into coming with him next time just to even out the imbalance. Potter dropped into the seat next to his and leaned over.

“Hi there,” Potter said, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. He’d already had several drinks and it made him even looser. Draco wanted to kiss him as he sat there smiling at his slightly sloshed fake boyfriend.

“Well hello,” Draco said with a slow smirk. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this?” 

“Getting lucky, I hope,” Potter said with a wink. Draco ran his hand along Potter’s arm where he folded it on the table and was pleased when he felt Harry’s arm come around him to pull him closer so that their sides were pressed together shoulder to hip. He was warm and he smelled like peppermint and the spicy aftershave that Draco had gifted him for the holidays. He was surprised when Harry started touching him back when Draco had started touching Harry more and more casually. Once Draco had started, he was surprised at what a leech for affection Harry was.

“Oi, you love birds, break it up, yeah?” Weasley said, sloshing his pint over the rim of the glass and slamming it back on the table. “Quit rubbin’ it in that my girl’s gone back to school and I’m left alone with you lot.”

“Yes, but at least you still have your right hand to keep you warm at night, Weasley,” Draco teased and Potter snorted into his shoulder. Weasley flipped him two fingers and Draco grinned. “And your left when you’re up for a surprise,” Draco added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Harry laughed that beautiful, full laugh that made Draco’s toes curl and he couldn’t resist, he reached around Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a quick peck. Harry hummed and leaned forward to capture his lips in another kiss when Draco was pulling away. When he drank, Draco found that he was freer with his kisses, too. Draco wasn’t complaining as their tongues slid together briefly. Draco could taste the ale on his tongue, but it didn’t matter because they barely ever got to snog like this. After that first kiss had gotten out of hand at the Quidditch match, they kept everything more controlled. He was distantly aware of Weasley groaning , _Like bloody teenagers_ , over their display. Harry was pulling away too soon when Finnigan tugged on his arm and pulled Harry away towards the dance floor. Draco watched with a carefully placed mask for a few minutes, enjoying seeing Harry in a different light than he normally did.

“C’mon Weasley,” Draco said and stood up when watching Finnigan getting handsy became too much. Weasley held up his hands and shook his head and Draco sighed. He turned to Lovegood and offered his hand to her. “Miss Lovegood, can I interest you in a dance?”

“Lovely,” she said and put her dainty hand in his. 

On the dance floor Draco felt stiff for the first few moments, even with Finnigan and Harry jumping about like idiots to the beat of the music. Then Lovegood took both of his hands in hers and took the lead, shimmying their arms back and forth and spinning him around the dance floor until he couldn’t help but laugh. He let himself go and for the first time in a long time he felt free, and young, and alive. Happy, even, when he looked over and caught Harry’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around Lovegood’s waist and picked her up to swing her around the dance floor with her feet dangling in the air and her tinkling, bell-like laughter in his ear. When he brought her back down to the floor, she smiled and kissed both of his cheeks before twirling away to dance by herself.

Draco was about to leave the dance floor when a pair of strong, muscled arms caught him around the waist. His hands automatically came up to twine their fingers together and Harry’s scent enveloped him. The music changed to a slower tune and Harry’s hips brushed against his as he swayed them together. Harry hummed in his ear and Draco shivered, squeezing Harry’s fingers between his.

He turned his head and met Harry’s eyes. Harry was looking at him so intently. They were barely even moving to the music anymore. Whatever Harry was searching for in his eyes, he must have found it because he leaned forward with his eyes on Draco’s lips. Draco’s breath caught in his throat as they leaned slowly towards each other. Draco knew that somehow this kiss would be different from the usual ones they shared, it would be much more telling, like that first one that they’d gotten swept away in. Just as their lips were barely brushing they were interrupted and jostled by Finnigan and Lovegood waltzing around them.

Draco met Harry’s eyes again and saw that the moment was gone.


	4. PART 4

Harry was frustrated. He found himself reluctantly falling for the charming and endearing version of Draco while the act was on. He let himself believe sometimes that Draco really meant to look at him the way he would when they were pretending to date. Harry kicked himself for falling for the ruse they were putting on for the world, knowing it wasn’t really real. He still wasn’t really sure how effective their dating ploy was at putting Draco in a more positive light, but he found himself getting lost in the way he felt around Draco when they were putting on the act.

As winter began to fade into early spring he found himself around Draco constantly, unable to avoid him. Draco had insisted that he accompany Harry wherever he went, whether it was out on a date that Draco had set up or just a trip to the grocer to pick up milk.

The only solace he had away from Draco was when he had training or patrol work to do.

But eventually even his patrols were encroached on. Harry began getting more and more urgent calls and reports across his desk about Death Eater activity and complaints. He shook his head and pressed his fingertips into his eyelids until he saw stars. He knew these files only came across his desk because of his role in the war, and because of who his _boyfriend_ was. Half of the reports were about seeing Draco _acting suspicious_ or _being insolent and violent_. Harry knew it was utter bollocks. He’d seen how Draco reacted all those months ago when he’d been on patrol and broken up the crowd of people harassing him. Worry niggled at him over how Draco would deal with it if his problem never got better, or if he wasn’t able to study at St. Mungo’s.

Harry sighed wearily when the end of his junior training shift ended and he was allowed to go home. He swept off his grey sash and Auror training robe, draped his kit over his arm and hurried along to the Floo Network to go home to his cosy flat.

He tripped over the grate on his way out of the Floo and caught himself on the arm of the sofa to save himself from face-planting. Draco was there, he noticed, and barely acknowledged his entrance. When Harry righted himself he saw that Draco had paperwork and pamphlets spread out across his coffee table and a quill held between ink-stained fingers. His face was drawn in concentration and immense focus. Harry wished the sight didn’t make him smile, or warm his heart. He had to control the urge to lean over and press a kiss to the top of Draco’s head, unsure how that could be played off as a gesture from a friend.

Harry dropped his satchel and his Auror robes to the floor and dropped onto the sofa next to Draco, jostling him slightly.

“Hey,” Harry said. “How long have you been here?”

“Mm... A while,” Draco answered vaguely without turning to face him, his attention still mostly on the form he was reading.

Harry reached forward and grabbed a pamphlet at random. Emblazoned across the front was _St. Mungo’s Esteemed Healer and Potions Training Programs_ with a grainy wizarding photo of an older Healer, who was pointing out the symptoms of Dragon Pox on a patient to a Mediwizard and a Healer-in-training. Underneath, the pamphlet boasted _Venerated tracks of training in the art of Healing, Mediwizardry, Potions, and Mind Healing_. Harry was impressed at the number of paths available to study. He hadn’t seen this pamphlet when he’d looked briefly into other career paths when Hermione’d made him look before settling on the Auror Training Academy.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. It took Draco several moments to answer.

“You’re the Auror-in-training, use your impressive investigative skills,” Draco said. He chewed on the end of his quill and then marked down another answer on the form. Harry’s eyes were trained on his mouth and he had to shake his head to stop thinking about how much he liked the shape of it.

“I thought you said that they already had your application on file for the training program at St. Mungo’s?” Harry tried. He flipped through the pamphlet he’d picked up and read about the different study courses.

“They have misplaced the last three I’ve sent, so I’ve formed the habit of sending in one every other month to ensure that they won’t lose them,” Draco answered, sounding tired and frustrated. “Sometimes I send two,” he added.

A pang of pity and guilt twisted through Harry. He wanted to reach out and hold Draco’s hand, or run his fingers through his hair. He wanted to help make this better for him.

“Which of the tracks do you think you’re most interested in?” Harry asked, steering the subject away from the main issue of corrupt bureaucracy and the post-war political climate towards accused Death Eaters.

“Potions, I think. That’s if I can ever manage to get into the bloody program in the first place,” Draco said with a world-weary sigh. He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and cleared his throat, fidgeting with the quill in his inky fingers before adding quietly, “I think I’d also like to learn a bit about the actual healing courses. I don’t know if I’d be a good fit for it, but I’d like to see. I want — I want to help people. I want to do some good for a change.”

Harry’s heart swelled and he had to tamp down hard on the urge to pull Draco to him and kiss him.

“I think that’s brilliant,” Harry murmured instead and looked intently at Draco’s profile.

“Yeah?” Draco asked in a brief show of vulnerability. Harry’s heart gave another embarrassing lurch and he managed a smile for Draco. Draco’s insecurity passed quickly and he masked it. “Well, let’s get them to look past the Malfoy name long enough to let me on the damn roster, then we’ll see.”

Draco finally turned on the sofa to look at him directly and Harry’s eyes immediately focused on the split in his bottom lip that had been hidden when Draco had been turned away. He snapped up, his shoulders tense, and his whole body thrummed with a need to protect.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked. He reached his hand out carefully and brushed his fingers along Draco’s jaw to make him turn his head so Harry could see better. Draco looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting away and not meeting Harry’s searching gaze. “Who the fuck did that?”

“The, ah, parent of a student at Hogwarts, I think. He wasn’t pleased that I’d been the one to give his son detentions with the Carrows. Caught me when I was picking up this lot,” Draco answered finally, still refusing to look Harry in the eye. Harry sighed and gently cupped Draco’s face. He’d gotten very good at the basic healing charms in training, for when Aurors were injured in the field. He held his wand up, murmuring _Episkey_ , and watched the cut knit itself back together until it was like it had never been there. Harry absently ran his thumb over the soft skin of Draco’s lip. Draco finally met his gaze and they stared at each other silently while Harry caressed his thumb across the skin to prove to himself it was healed. Harry couldn’t read the emotions dancing in Draco’s eyes.

The sound of the Floo flaring to life made them both jump apart and separate to opposite ends of the couch as Ron stumbled out.

“Wotcher, Harry! Oh — and Malfoy,” Ron greeted as he moved about their flat loudly. The sounds echoed in Harry’s ears and it made him realize how quiet he and Draco had been. “Oi, you lot feeling like take away tonight? I’m starved, but I’m too knackered to make anything. George and I have been working all day on the new line of products for the summer.”

“Nothing fried this time, Weasley. My stomach can’t handle any more fried fish,” Draco said, sounding much more like his usual self. He waved his wand lazily and summoned the menus Harry and Ron had amassed over the months they’d lived in the flat. Draco flicked through the menus, selected one, and brandished it high in the air. “I vote for kebabs!”

Harry grinned and ran a hand through his hair as he shifted to get more comfortable on the sofa. “Seconded!” he cheered in agreement. As Harry watched Draco organize his assortment of paperwork and training pamphlets, and clear them from the coffee table, his stomach twisted with the thought of when this eventually would all come to an end, and Draco wouldn’t be a usual staple in his flat anymore.

*******

A few days later Harry and Draco were on their way back to Harry’s flat after one of their outings together. They were walking hand in hand and smiling at each other. Harry’s hip occasionally bumped against Draco’s. They had paused near the Apparition point and Draco was tucking a wayward strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear. Harry saw a group of witches out of the corner of his eye and used it as an excuse to gently nudge Draco back against the lamppost and sealed their lips together in a kiss. Harry could hear the group of witches giggling at their display. Draco sighed contentedly into it and his hands teased up and down Harry’s sides, then down his back to grip his arse firmly and pull their hips together. Harry unconsciously rolled his hips forward against Draco’s and relished in the hitch in Draco’s breath.

Draco grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the Apparition point, giving him a hungry look through hooded eyes. Harry wrapped both of his arms around Draco’s waist. He kissed him again while he Apparated them both back to the flat. Harry was still lost in the kiss when Draco pushed away from him abruptly and straightened his clothes. He turned away from Harry to comb his fingers through his hair in the mirror on the wall. Harry had to take several deep breaths to keep himself from grabbing Draco and throwing him down on the couch to rut against his thigh. It always took Harry a moment longer to remember that they were faking, that Draco didn’t really want him that way. 

This was happening more and more often, when they would start something out in the open only to drop the act immediately as soon as they were behind closed doors. It was starting to drive Harry mad with sexual frustration. He ran a hand over his face and willed his stubborn, half-interested cock to go down.

“I’m going for a quick shower,” Harry said and left Draco in the sitting room without a backwards glance when Draco only hummed in response.

Harry’s movements were jerky as he undressed and fished around for a clean towel; he wasn’t soothed until he felt the hot spray of water on his skin. Harry’s desires were getting ridiculous, they were just friends who were pretending to date and snog. If he tried anything after they went behind closed doors and dropped their act, he’d end up hexed by Draco, who wouldn’t be happy with his advances. He sighed and let the water rush over his head and tried not to think of how much he liked kissing Draco, or of what he wished could have happened when they’d returned to the flat.

He could clearly picture how surprised Draco would look if Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled him back for another, deeper kiss. He imagined Draco melting against him and moaning into their kiss as their tongues slid together, picturing Draco hiding feelings that were similar to his own. And then their hips would roll together again, like they’d been doing against the lamppost, and they’d both gasp at the feel of their hard cocks rubbing together.

Harry gave up all pretense of ignoring his erection, circling his fingers around his cock. He stroked himself until he was panting and spreading his legs further apart. He pictured himself undressing Draco, peeling away his layers and exposing what he buttoned up so tightly. He’d devour Draco’s neck and wrap his hand around both of their cocks, both hard and hot and leaking with desire. Harry could almost hear their moans he imagined as he pumped his cock until he was closer and closer, and then he realized it was his own moans he was hearing. He couldn’t bite them back as he pictured how Draco would look when Harry made him come, and Harry was suddenly shuddering and coming all over his fingers. He let out a shaky breath, watching as his release swirled down the drain. He hoped Draco hadn’t heard him wanking if he was still in the flat. He ran a hand over his face and wiped the water away from his eyes.

He was absolutely _fucked_.

*******

“It isn’t enough,” Draco announced early one morning as soon as he’d Apparated into the flat. Harry had barely poured himself a cup of tea before Draco was ranting in his kitchen, pacing back and forth.

“What are you on about?” Harry asked groggily as he slowly went through the motions of making his tea. Draco huffed and spun on his heel to look at him.

“It’s not working as effectively as I’d hoped, this whole dating plan. We’ll need to move faster — we should move in together,” Draco explained, and Harry sluggishly tried to make sense of what he’d said.

“You want to move in together?” Harry asked in surprise and burned his tongue when he took a sip of his too-hot tea. He jumped and hastily put his mug down on the counter with a clatter and held his hand up to his mouth. “Ouch, bugger!”

“Yes, I want to move in here with you,” Draco said and waved his wand. A glass of ice water appeared in front of Harry, and he gulped it thankfully, swirling the cool water around on his burned tongue. Draco went on talking and pacing. “It makes sense, I already spend so much time here.”

“All for a charade? That’s madness!” Harry said, already knowing he would give in if Draco really pushed the matter. He was so fucked. The thought of seeing Draco all the time, of _living_ with him — Merlin, this would become a nightmare of sexual frustration for Harry. His imagination helpfully supplied an image of Draco with a towel slung low on his hips, still glistening with droplets of water from his shower and parading about the flat. Harry swallowed thickly. Draco would figure it out; he’d know exactly how Harry felt about him. He’d figure out that Harry wasn’t pretending all of the time.

“It makes sense, it’s the only thing I can think of to make this more believable!” Draco said again.

“But _why_? It’s not like people would see us around the flat, except for our friends. It’s only been a short while, we could go out more or something,” Harry suggested. Draco threw his hands in the air and started pacing back and forth again in front of Harry.

“Because it’s the natural progression for people in _love_ , and I can’t think of any other way to make this work! I’m already here more than half the time, anyway! It’ll be just like it already is.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but that’s such a big step — and if you haven’t forgotten, we aren’t actually together, or in love,” Harry protested, his stomach twisting. He might not be in _love_ , but he was definitely feeling something for Draco. This idea had disaster spelled out all over it. “The believability of the relationship isn’t even important if it isn’t really helping you out with how people treat you. I just don’t see how you moving in here would help you get into the program you’re trying to get into.”

“Look, I know it’s a huge favour to ask of you, to let me come live with you. I get it,” Draco said with a desperate edge in his voice. He stopped pacing to come up to Harry and grip him by the shoulders. “I think St. Mungo’s is burning my Owls on receipt when they see my address is Malfoy Manor. My mother acts like nothing has happened and our family is perfect, while my father is hell-bent on ruling the wizarding world like he used to — all from the comfort of his Ministry-monitored house arrest. I need the people at St. Mungo’s to take me seriously, and if the public starts seeing how seriously we take this relationship we’re playing at, then they’ll start taking us more seriously. _Please_ , Harry.”

Draco’s eyes were pleading with him. Harry sighed, feeling sorry for him on top of his growing feelings. He could already feel himself giving in, his heart clenching tightly at the prospect of having Draco around even more often. He knew he couldn’t avoid saying yes in the end.

“Alright, fine,” he said finally. He picked up his mug again, and the matter was settled. 

And that was how Draco Malfoy ended up moving into the flat Harry shared with Ron and Hermione. Draco subsequently became a constant in Harry’s life, even more than he’d been before. When Harry left for training in the morning, Draco would still be asleep, curled on the sofa where he slept at night. When Harry thought he could get away with it he’d lightly brush his hand over Draco’s soft, sleep mussed hair. When Harry returned in the evening he often found Draco going over numbers and accounts for his family’s business dealings. Harry was thankful that Draco and Ron managed to get along civilly, and that Hermione was still away at Hogwarts.

Having him around all the time, seeing his quirks and habits, made Harry’s feelings grow even more. He started to feel more than just desire for his kisses; he actually felt fondness for this strange man that used to start fights with him in the halls at Hogwarts. It was a dangerous and confusing line that he was walking, stuck between his growing affections and what he needed to play off as pretend.

In the first week Draco had almost caused a fire, not understanding how the Muggle appliances worked, and Harry had to slowly walk him through the uses and proper operation of everything in the flat.

“But I don’t understand — why would I use this device when I could just call on that decrepit house elf you have to make me toast when I want it?” Draco had asked stubbornly when Harry was teaching him how to use the toaster.

“Because,” Harry said slowly through clenched teeth, “this does the same thing, and Kreacher doesn’t have to answer to you. And if you learn how to use this, then you can feed yourself and not wake me up at half bloody six on my _day off_ to make you breakfast.”

Draco shot him an unimpressed look and then turned back to examine his reflection in the metallic surface of the toaster. Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes and pushed the loaf of bread towards Draco.

“Go on, like I’ve just explained. You can do it,” he said with less bite in his tone. Harry watched as Draco slowly dropped slices into each of the four slots and turned the knobs. Draco gave him a sidelong glance before carefully pressing down on the levers to secure the toast. Harry had to bite his lips to keep from smiling as Draco’s expression became serious and focused as he watched the metal coils inside heat up until they were bright red.

“Why does the red light make the toast?” Draco asked in a suspicious whisper. Harry bit his lips harder.

“It’s the electricity,” he explained gently. He pointed to the plug in the wall. “It gets it from here — no, don’t touch it with your fingers, you’ll get a nasty shock. It travels through the cord and into the toaster and when you press the lever the coils heat up, like a flame, and toast the bread.”

“Is it safe to eat when it’s made this way?” Draco asked in another hushed whisper, like he was afraid the toaster would overhear him and sabotage his toast. 

“Yes, I assure you it’s perfectly safe. I’ve made your toast this way every time you’ve asked so far,” Harry said. He had to hold back a snort of laughter when Draco startled as his toast sprang up when it was finished. He’d jumped behind Harry and clutched at his shirt. Harry carefully plucked the warm bread out and passed Draco the plate of toast and the butter dish and promptly went back to bed.

It wasn’t completely horrible having Draco live there, Harry decided. When he watched him get sleepy on the couch late at night, waiting for Harry and Ron to go away so he could make his nest of blankets and pillows, warmth would spread in Harry’s chest. Sometimes Draco would come up behind him in the mornings when he was in the kitchen. He’d wrap his arms around Harry, and Harry’s stomach would drop. Then he’d steal the tea Harry had made and slink back to what he now deemed as _his sofa_.

It didn’t last long. Just over three weeks after Draco had moved in, he cornered Harry in his bedroom.

“This flat is too small for all of us,” he declared and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” Harry asked, bewildered. “Well, it wasn’t until you moved in.”

“Quite,” Draco said with a frown. “I’m tired of sleeping on the sofa every night, and seeing Weasley walk around in just his pants. We’re moving out and getting a place of our own,” he said decidedly and glared at Harry, daring him to argue.

Harry opened his mouth indignantly, ready to protest. Draco cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at him. His words caught in his throat.

“This is completely fucking mad,” Harry said with a resigned sigh. Godric, what was he getting himself into?

“I knew you’d agree,” Draco said with a self-satisfied smirk. “Can we take my sofa with us?”

“ _No_ , Christ, I’ll get you a new sofa,” Harry said in exasperation.

*******

At first they’d tried to keep it relatively quiet — at Harry’s insistence — that they were on the hunt for a new home to rent so that they wouldn’t be swarmed. Draco had protested that the whole point was so that the public would _see_ them, but had relented when Harry said if he was going to do this for Draco it would be on his terms. It worked for the first few places they looked at, but then they’d been spotted. The wizarding press ate it up that they were getting more serious and followed them around anytime they went out to look at homes. The Prophet was tying itself in knots between Rita Skeeter’s articles and the tipping scales of the public’s opinion. The Quibbler put out an article on _5 Surefire Ways to Rid New Homes of Nargle Infestations_ that was all about their hunt for a house; it even wished them luck and happiness. If someone had told Harry six months ago that he’d run into Draco one day and that within six months they would be convincing at pretending to be a couple, move in together, and subsequently rent a home together, Harry would have laughed. He’d probably have arrested the person and thrown them into the Janus Thickey ward.

Ron had only put up a mild complaint that Harry suspected was for show when he’d told him they were moving out of the flat. Harry had thought he would mind more, since the three of them had picked out that flat together. Instead Ron had shrugged and said _makes sense_ when Harry told him about the plan to get a new place. Harry had seen the glint in his eye at the prospect of living there with Hermione alone when the spring term at Hogwarts was over.

Shopping for a house to rent was a nightmare for Harry. They’d looked at countless places, both wizarding and Muggle, and none of them were to Draco’s satisfaction, so the search continued on and on. They were always with their estate agent, so Draco was always all over him. Harry was having trouble keeping what was real and what was the game separate. He couldn’t believe he was still going along with the fake relationship, because here he was playing house with Draco Malfoy and renting a new place with him. The only silver lining that made Harry believe it was all working was the positive articles in the press, and the people treating Draco like a human being while they were looking for a new house rather than like dirt on their shoes. It gave him hope that doing this would work like Draco had said, and that in the end it would help Draco to get what he needed. Harry had to keep reminding himself that it was all a means to an end for Draco. Then Draco would look at him, a pleased and excited smile lighting up his face, and it would hit Harry in the gut every time.

“Y’know, we could live in the house I already have,” he suggested after another long Saturday looking at townhomes around London. They were walking hand in hand through a Muggle park near the last home they’d looked at. Harry liked the area, it was close to the Ministry, and he pictured himself going for a run at this park or having a picnic lunch with Draco on a nice day.

“Why have you been living in a flat all this time if you’ve had a house all along?” Draco asked. Harry studied him out of the corner of his eye. Draco looked content and at peace in the park. He looked so much happier than that first time Harry had seen him when he’d stopped the crowd in Diagon Alley from hexing him.

“I — it’s Grimmauld Place, the Black family estate. Sirius Black, your cousin, he was my godfather. He left it to me,” Harry said. Draco was watching him carefully, surely analyzing the sad expression he was trying to hide.

“Well, I want something new for us,” Draco said, and his words made Harry’s heart flutter. He pictured what their life would look like if they weren’t pretending at being the perfect, happy couple. Imagining it made his heart hurt, and he shook away the thought. What was the point in picturing what would make him happy when the person he wanted it with didn’t feel anything more than friendship for him?

It was difficult to push his feelings down every time they were in front of the agent, acting like the perfect couple. Draco was so good at the act that Harry had to mentally chastise himself whenever he caught his thoughts drifting into thoughts about their future together.

After two weeks of searching, Draco and Harry finally agreed on a place they both liked. They were standing in the brightly lit entryway and admiring the way the afternoon light lit up the whole first floor. Draco was excitedly pointing out the architecture techniques used and where the details in the crown moulding originated. Harry admired the kitchen, with its open floor plan and the large island in the middle. He was looking forward to cooking a Sunday fry-up. It even had a sizeable garden for the neighbourhood. Their broker agent had assured them that the area was a partial wizarding and Muggle mix, and already was pre-approved for wizard space charms on the area if they’d wanted to expand the garden for flying. Everything felt like it was filled with _possibility_.

“The cellar is huge, and the perfect size for a potions lab! I could bring my coursework home and work on it here — do you think they’d have a course by owl correspondence?” Draco turned to Harry. His cheeks were flushed with the excitement of finding the perfect space.

“Maybe... I don’t see why not, since the Ministry has also been talking about setting up a N.E.W.T.s owl course, as well, for the witches and wizards who went straight into the workforce after the war and missed out on the Ministry sanctioned retake exams,” Harry sidled closer to Draco and loosely wrapped his arms around his waist. Draco’s eyes widened and he glanced around to see if their broker agent, Miss Fipsworth, was near. Harry’s fingers were idly stroking Draco’s lower back.

“I’m glad you talked me into this,” Harry said, not clarifying which _this_ he was referring to. He was pretty sure he meant all of it, anyway.

“Oh? Well, I tend to be right about these sorts of things,” Draco said faintly, his eyes staring at Harry in wonder. Harry wanted to kiss him — there in the entryway of their new home with the afternoon light making his heart hurt with the way it thudded against his chest. Harry started to lean forward, his eyes locked on Draco’s lips. He felt more than heard Draco’s sharp inhale since they were standing so close.

“Alright, gentlemen, why don’t you both come into the kitchen and we can sign the paperwork — oh, my apologies for interrupting,” Miss Fipsworth said with a ladylike giggle. They both glanced at her and then back at each other, their eyes widening when they both realized that she’d been nowhere near them and that had definitely not been a near-kiss _for the act_. Draco cleared his throat and tugged Harry into the kitchen.

“Come along, darling,” Draco drawled and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He pinched Draco’s arse and swallowed his indignant retort by kissing him quickly. Draco huffed when they broke apart, muttering under his breath, “You’re no fun.”

“As soon as we take care of this, then that’s it? The house will be all ours?” Harry asked. Draco stayed very close to his side, and it was distracting him. He wanted to bury his face in Draco’s neck and possibly never come out.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, all of the magically binding contracts and forms will bind the house to your magical signatures and allow you access and control over the wards while you live here. The house comes with the standard protective charms and wards on it, and the agency leaves it up to the tenant's discretion which wards you’d like to use on top of that,” Miss Fipsworth explained as she carefully laid out different forms and scrolls of paperwork on the kitchen island. “I’m sure, being an Auror in training, you’ll have plenty of protective wards you’ll be wanting to add. Now, Mr. Malfoy, if I could have you sign these...And Mr. Potter, we’ll start you on this end and you can work your way towards each other.”

They started filling out the forms and signing the rental contracts at opposite ends of the island and when they were close to the middle their hands brushed unconsciously. Draco glanced at him once and smiled at him and Harry couldn’t help but return it. Once they were finished with the last signature the paperwork glowed a bright green, and then with a swirl, Miss Fipsworth organized it all and nodded to them.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, congratulations on your new home! And thank you for using our services. It was a pleasure working with you,” Miss Fipsworth shook both of their hands and then left them alone in their house.

They glanced around the kitchen, letting the reality of it sink into their bones. The air felt a more awkward without Miss Fipsworth there as a buffer. Harry felt like he was drowning in his feelings for Draco and the enormity of what they’d done. Harry wasn’t sure what to say.

“Should we —” Draco started, but was interrupted by an insistent tapping against the window above the sink. He went to open the latch and a large mottled brown Ministry owl flew in and landed on the island. It looked between them both and then stuck out its leg.

Harry reached forward and removed the thick parchment letter. It had a Ministry seal and for a moment he was transported back into his memories when he’d received reprimands for underage magic use. He carefully broke the seal and opened the heavy card inside. Draco came to stand by his side and read over his shoulder. Harry’s eyes skimmed the formal invitation and his stomach dropped off the edge of a cliff.

_Messrs. Potter and Malfoy are formally invited to the Ministry of Magic’s Remembrance and Celebration Gala on the 2nd of May 1999 to honor those lost to us and celebrate the first anniversary of the end of the war. The event will be held in the formal ballroom at the Ministry of Magic beginning at 7PM._

_A speech will be given by the Minister of Magic, and the Ministry asks that Mr. Harry Potter give a short speech as well._

_ Attendance by Aurors and Auror trainees is mandatory. _

Harry read the invitation twice before he let it flutter down to land on the marble of the island with a frown. It wasn’t like he was unaware that the first anniversary was looming in the near future, he’d just been so wrapped up in everything with Draco and training that he’d let it sit in the back of his mind. He met Draco’s eyes and they gripped onto each other’s hand without words, each seeking the warmth and support of the other, both of them trying to push away the dark memories of the past. They stood there for a long time and watched as the afternoon light faded into sunset.

*******

The party had not been Harry’s idea; it hadn’t even really been Draco’s idea. However, once their friends had kept pestering them about when they’d host everyone over, Draco had decided that they’d throw the housewarming party and be done with it. Draco and Harry had spent three grueling weeks moving their things in, buying new things, and bickering over the merits of different types of décor. In between preparing their house, they’d settled into an easy routine, much like they had at Harry’s flat. When Draco had deemed the house ready for its debut he informed Harry when they’d have the party.

All of their friends and families had come to congratulate them on their new home. Harry was secretly pleased to see Draco doing so well with Teddy, who’d taken an immediate liking to Draco. He cried whenever he was taken away from him until Draco ended up carting the baby around on his hip with a drink in his other hand and a bright smile. Teddy’s tuft of curly hair kept changing back and forth between an imitation of Harry’s and Draco’s hair, and Harry was struck with the thought that if Draco and Harry ever had children maybe that’s what they would look like. He found he liked the thought, very much. The thought gave him a moment’s pause. He realized he was dreaming about an actual, real future with Draco — one he wouldn’t be getting. He frowned and turned away to go refill his drink, sighing as he mentally reminded himself that he was doing this to help Draco. None of it was real. He wouldn’t have a family with him. Since they’d moved in together he found he’d needed to remind himself of that fact more often.

Harry had spent the evening playing referee between Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy, who had taken up opposite corners of the sitting room with their wives and were shooting suspicious and dark looks towards each other throughout the night. Someone had pressed another drink into his hand and he relaxed and left Arthur and Lucius to their feud across the room. Harry saw Molly and Narcissa both elbowing and looking pointedly at their respective husbands. Harry turned away and found himself pulled into a conversation with Theodore Nott, Dean Thomas, and Parvarti Patil about their jobs at the Ministry. 

When Harry ended up by Lucius again he was glad for the drink in his hand. He and Lucius stood stiffly next to each other, surveying the room.

“You’re certainly sweeping Draco off his feet,” Lucius muttered.

“I only want what’s best for him,” Harry answered truthfully. He shoved a hand in his pocket to keep himself from grabbing onto his wand and jinxing Lucius.

“Is how quickly you two are moving really what’s best for my son?” Lucius asked frostily. Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

“It’s what he wanted,” Harry said and made an excuse to mingle with his other guests.

Whenever Draco would pass by him they’d lean in for a quick kiss and share a secret smile. Draco would playfully swat at his arse occasionally, and Harry would snatch him around the waist and place sloppy kisses all over his face and neck. For a while they’d found themselves standing together with their arms loosely around each other’s waist while they heard all about Pansy Parkinson’s escapades in the Mediterranean and Luna told her about the different endangered magical species in those regions. Draco had his hand tucked into the back pocket of Harry’s denims — the tight ones that were the only pair he approved of — and the pressure of his hand there was warm and inviting. Harry wished he could have it all of the time.

Shortly after that Hermione had appeared by his side. She was home on holiday break from Hogwarts.

“Your _relationship_ is certainly getting quite serious,” she said as she stared him down. Harry didn’t miss the emphasis she put on the word relationship. He gently steered her to a quiet corner away from the other guests.

“It made sense to move in together. This is all for the plan — it’s to make people stop harassing Draco in the street when he goes to buy potions ingredients,” Harry said. She raised her eyebrow at him in response.

“That was… fast. Are you sure you aren’t moving too quickly?” Hermione pointed out. Her gaze was piercing with her all-knowing look that he was determined not to crumble under. Harry didn’t even believe his weak argument anymore. He realized that they might be pretending to date, but they sure were taking this very far for two people who were just pretending for the sake of a friend. He knew sometimes that he forgot about the fact that they were only pretending, but he just wanted to spend time with Draco. Harry waved Hermione off and changed the subject.

The party was still going an hour later, even after Andromeda had left with Teddy and the Malfoys and Weasleys had left for the night. It was down to just their friends from Hogwarts and they’d all migrated back to the sitting room. Harry noticed that Blaise Zabini was standing very closely to Draco by the hearth and speaking to him quietly. Harry shifted so that he was closer to them to hear their conversation.

“— certain that Potter takes care of you in all the ways a man should?” Zabini was asking, leaning closer to whisper something else in Draco’s ear that made him flush and Harry saw red. A mix of emotions and heat flared to life in his chest, and he recognized the feeling for what it was — jealousy. Blaise Zabini was coming on to his boyfriend. Well, his pretend boyfriend. Harry clenched his jaw tightly. He couldn’t hear what Draco had said in response, but it made Zabini laugh and run his hand up Draco’s arm.

“If only you’d known that at Hogwarts,” Zabini said with a flirtatious smile. His hand was still resting on Draco’s upper arm and Harry felt like growling. He felt a wave of possessiveness overcome him and all he could think when he looked at Draco was _mine_.

Harry stepped behind Draco and wrapped him up in his arms and nuzzled the back of his neck, feeling like he was a damn animal. Draco stiffened in his arms and shivered when Harry’s lips brushed against his pulse point.

“There you are,” Harry murmured against the skin of Draco’s neck. He glanced at Zabini and saw a look of disappointment on his face. Draco turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. Harry leaned forwards and kissed him soundly, and when he pulled away Draco was staring at him with one eyebrow arched. Harry’s mind was chanting a mantra of _mine mine mine_.

“Here I am,” Draco agreed. Harry nodded to Zabini and pulled Draco back to the sofa with him. He flopped down and when Draco moved to sit next to him Harry caught his wrist and tugged until Draco was sprawled in his lap. “You’re a possessive brute, Harry,” Draco said, and Harry was glad to hear the amusement in his tone. Harry kissed the side of Draco’s neck lightly and kept Draco in his lap while the party continued on.

“Who’d have ever thought, the pair of you?” Seamus said and elbowed Harry in the side.

“Well, there were bets in Slytherin about it,” Pansy piped up with a smirk from her perch on the arm of the wingback chair that Theo was sitting in.

“I’d have put money down on that,” Hermione said, her lips twitching to contain her grin. Harry shot her a dirty look.

“I think they make a very lovely couple,” Luna said in her dulcet tones. She was sitting on the floor behind Ginny and braiding her hair into complicated plaits.

Draco snorted and leaned back against Harry’s chest and nursed his drink. “Guess we should’ve done this years ago,” he said quietly under his breath so only Harry could hear. Harry chuckled and shook his head. He was amazed that all of their friends could get along so well, and that the only near fight all evening had been between Lucius and Arthur.

“Oi, let’s play a game!” Seamus said suddenly and held up an empty butterbeer bottle.

“Oh come off it, Seamus, we’re not playing spin the bottle,” Ron said. He draped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and drew her close to him. “I don’t want any of you randy lot kissing my girlfriend!”

“What if I wanted to play spin the bottle, Ron?” Hermione asked with a quirked eyebrow and laughed when Ron spluttered. “Oh, hush, I only want to be kissing you.”

Harry smiled as he watched his best friends rub their noses lightly and lean their foreheads together. He was so content in that moment, everything in the world felt so right.

“What about this — Dad left it, something new that he confiscated in the Misuse department,” Ron said and held up the colourful box that Arthur had left beside the couch. “He said someone’s charmed it to be like exploding snap. If you fall or lose the game you’ll get a little shock, and the last two people on the board have an extra challenge.”

“Twister? Why would anyone try to charm this?” Hermione asked as she turned the box over in her hands. Everyone was looking on with interest at the depiction on the box of the rows of colour circles and people with their limbs twisted around one another.

“Looks like the beginnings of a very different kind of party,” Pansy said mildly. Seamus snickered into his drink and then grinned at her appreciatively.

“Is it a Muggle game, then?” Theo asked, curiosity all over his face.

“Yeah, my Muggle cousin had one,” Harry said and nudged Draco to move so he could stand up. He waved his wand and shrank their coffee table and levitated the furniture to the edges of the room so they had enough room to play. “I’ve never played it, but it’s meant to be fun. Should be a real laugh if it’s charmed.”

“How does one play this Muggle game?” Draco asked as he stood behind Harry and watched him lay out the game mat on the floor.

“There’s a spinner and someone who calls out the directions. You move your hands or feet to the specified colour until there’s only one person left standing. If you fall over then you’re out, I think,” Harry explained.

“So if one is flexible, it’s an easy game?” Draco asked and Harry looked over his shoulder and caught the flirtatious look that Draco shot his way. Harry grinned at him and gripped Draco’s hips lightly in his hands when he straightened up.

“Flexibility is always an advantage,” Harry said in a husky tone with a cheeky wink. Draco ducked his head and bit on his bottom lip. Harry reflected that they were getting to be very good at their boyfriend act. “Let’s play!”

“Alright, everyone, form two teams for me,” Hermione said, commanding the spinner. “Four players at a time. You must always be touching the corresponding colour with the correct body part. You must move to a new colour circle each time I call out a new direction. If you’re part of the same team it is safe for you to touch the same circle. If you are on an opposing team, you are not able to touch a circle if someone from the opposite team already has it. If you fall over or are unable to make a move, then you’ll be out. Please take off your shoes.”

Harry stood across from Draco and the rest of the room arranged themselves to stand with each of them. Harry had Theo, Seamus, and Ginny on his team, while Draco had Zabini, Ron, and Luna on his. Harry, Draco, Seamus and Ron stepped forward first and Hermione called out the directions.

“Left foot blue,” Hermione said and all four of them shot forward to claim blue circles with their left feet. “Right hand green.”

“Oh _no_ , I think I know what they did to mess around with this,” Harry giggled as he felt the effects of a weak Tickling Charm shooting up his arm and his leg. Ron, Draco, and Seamus were squirming and giggling as they tried to keep their body parts touching the coloured circles.

The game continued on until all four of them were tangled up on the mat, giggling like mad and twitching when the Tickling Charm got stronger. Harry was beginning to feel warm from the effort of the near-impossible spread of his legs to reach red and yellow. His cheeks hurt from grinning. His left hand was butted up against Seamus’ and his other hand was under Draco’s leg. Draco was on his hands, arched over Harry’s outstretched legs and facing towards the ground. They had all laughed at the ridiculous premise of the game as they’d quickly discovered how difficult it could be. Ron had fallen early on in the game and had cursed when the blue circle he was stepping on had given him a sharp stinging hex.

“Right foot green,” Hermione called out. Harry’s foot shot from the yellow circle to a green one, but it was too wide for his denims and he fell and took Seamus down with him. They both yelped at the stinging hex and quickly rolled off of the mat, leaving Draco standing as the victor.

They played several more rounds, adding more alcohol and laughter to the mix as they all cheered each other on and laughed when one person knocked over everyone else. Luna had ended up in the cradle of Ginny’s legs and had won by giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Ginny’s eyes had widened and her hand shot to her cheek in surprise. Hermione had called her out and Ginny had narrowed her eyes and vowed to get Luna back, but when Luna wandered off of the mat without getting stung she had tangled her hand in Ginny’s and pulled her towards the fireplace and left the party.

On the last round they played, Harry ended up with Draco on top of him, his legs straddling his knees, and staring down at him. The tickling sensation had their lips twitching to keep in their laughter.

“Think I could get away with pulling the same move Lovegood did?” Draco asked. Harry grinned and shook his head.

“You could, but I can’t promise it’ll shock me the same way it shocked Ginny. I’m used to kissing you all the time, after all,” Harry said.

“Left hand red,” Hermione directed. Harry’s hand shot behind where he was supporting himself to a red circle. Draco’s hand shot over his shoulder, stretching even further over Harry, to reach the next one behind it.

“Isn’t this cosy?” Harry asked with a toothy grin. Draco’s arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself up at an awkward angle while being tickled, and their groins were just barely brushing together. Harry wanted to arch up into him and press their hips fully together to see if it would surprise Draco enough to win him the game. “I wonder if you’d still be able to hold that if I spread my knees a bit?”

“Don’t you dare, Potter,” Draco warned with a sharp look. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes darted down to where he was practically straddling Harry’s lap before he looked at Harry desperately. If Harry made him fall he’d end up pressed against Harry’s whole front. Harry grinned at him wickedly and opened his knees a fraction.

“Right hand blue.”

Harry was satisfied to hear Zabini fall over and grunt from the stinging hex, leaving just Draco and him on the board stuck in a tangle of limbs. The tickling stopped abruptly. Harry frowned when he felt the tingle of magic falling over him, and suddenly the board felt very slippery.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked and looked over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione.

“That must be the extra challenge, trying to stay upright when the circles turn into little portable swamps,” Ron said with a grin. “Wicked.”

“Ugh, this is disgusting — if any of this ruins my sitting room I’m blaming you, Weasley,” Draco grumbled as his hands slid through the mud of what used to be his blue circle. It brought their chests closer together and Harry felt himself sliding more with the added weight of Draco.

“Colour, Hermione, colour!” Harry said through clenched teeth. Pansy Parkinson was smirking down at him with her head tilted to the side.

“Left hand yellow,” Hermione said quickly and Draco and Harry moved as one. Both of their hands slipped and Harry felt himself land hard on the plastic surface covering his floor. He was only momentarily glad that the portable swamp charm had gone away before the stinging hex caught him in the arse.

“Ow — bloody hell, that hurts,” Harry complained. Draco grunted from where he was sprawled on top of Harry, his face buried in Harry’s neck. Harry’s arms went around him and squeezed, his thoughts stuck on how Draco could silently take a stinging hex. He frowned and squeezed him again, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“So who won, which one of them fell first?” Harry heard Theo asking.

“They both fell. I’m declaring it a tie,” Hermione said.

“Remind me never to play party games with you lot again,” Harry said as he and Draco sat up from the plastic mat.

“You’re the one who said it would be a laugh,” Draco pointed out and Harry lightly pinched his side playfully.

“Oi, quiet you,” Harry said. “Right, you are welcome to stay, but I’m knackered and would like to take my boyfriend to bed now, so,” Harry said as he stood and pulled Draco up. Laughter followed them as they made their way upstairs. Harry distinctly heard Ron’s voice in the mix saying they were _worse than newlyweds_.

“And don’t any of you think of touching the silver!” Draco called back down the steps.

The room where Draco slept had a Disillusionment Charm on it for the party so that no one would know they didn’t both sleep in the master bedroom. They nodded to each other in the hallway.

“Goodnight,” Harry said.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco answered with a smile before he ducked into the blank space of wall that hid the door to his room.

*******

The following weekend a group of their friends had decided to take a short trip together, after the success of the party. Hermione had sold it to them as a weekend in the mountains in a quaint cabin. Harry had questioned the merits of that, but then he’d been in awe of the sight when their Portkey had arrived. They were surrounded by very tall pine trees and a freshly fallen snow, and nestled in a copse of trees was an actual log cabin.

“This is lovely,” Luna commented brightly. Ginny and Luna trekked through the snow hand in hand towards the cabin.

“Will it fit all of us?” Draco asked.

“It’s Muggle, so there’s no wizarding space inside, but it does have enough beds for all of us,” Hermione explained as they all trudged through the snow. Hermione shot a look at Harry, and he frowned. Harry and Draco shared a glance. Ron and Hermione were the only couple on the trip that knew the truth behind their relationship. They’d been hoping for a large room with an extra piece of furniture they could transfigure into a second bed. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand.

Pansy squealed and shouted at Theo, “ _Put me down_ , Theodore,” when he swept her up and carried her across the threshold in a bridal carry.

Once they were inside Harry took in the log cabin furniture and the blazing fire in the stone hearth. There was a chandelier made of antlers, and Harry shot a sidelong glance at Hermione and Ron.

“I thought we’d sworn off camping after our last trip?” Harry asked.

“Well, this isn’t really camping, is it?” Hermione shot back at him with a satisfied smirk. Harry sighed and levitated the bags behind him as he and Draco went in search of a room.

“Well,” was all Draco said when they reached their room. Harry’s hopes of transfiguring something into a second bed went out the window. The room had a respectably sized bed that would comfortably fit both of them, but there was barely space for anything else in the room. They looked at one another again.

“It’ll be okay, it’s just for the weekend. I promise not to hog the covers,” Harry said gently, trying to reassure Draco. Draco silently studied his face for a moment before he nodded. Harry glanced at the bed again and had to take a steadying breath at the idea that he would be sharing it with Draco while they were here. They went back downstairs to have dinner with the other three couples.

They’d stayed up as late as they could, waiting for everyone else to fall asleep first, before they’d finally given in and went back to their room together. They both stood on opposite sides of the bed.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Draco said finally with a huff. He tugged down the coverlet and got into the bed, dragging the quilt back up to his chin. “Merlin’s tits, it’s cold, can you cast a warming charm?”

Harry obliged him and waved his wand to cast before he carefully climbed into the bed and lay down stiffly on his back. He wanted to laugh; they were comfortable with touching and kissing in public, yet the prospect of sleeping in the same bed was terrifying and he didn’t know why. Harry listened until Draco dropped off into sleep. He was fascinated by the sound of his breathing and the way he fidgeted in his sleep. Harry didn’t sleep much, only dozing here and there, waking when Draco would roll over and shift positions.

Then finally in the early hours of the morning he managed to drop off into a deep sleep. When he woke again it was light out, and they were tangled up together. Their legs were wrapped around each other and Harry’s head was on Draco’s shoulder. It was warm and comfortable, and Harry realized that they were both absently touching each other. Draco was caressing his arm and Harry was stroking Draco’s side.

Harry cleared his throat and got up from the bed to search for the bathroom. He just had to get through one more night of sharing the bed with Draco, and then they could go home and go back to sleeping in separate rooms.

Hermione and Pansy informed them over breakfast that they had arranged for them to each take a horse-drawn sleigh ride down to the Austrian village they were near. After breakfast there was a knock at the door and they were all trooped outside and herded into two large sleighs pulled by large, stocky horses. Part of Harry wished they could tell their other friends about their secret, there was really no point for them to be on this romantic weekend getaway with other real couples.

Draco draped them in a warm quilt and snuggled close to his side, under his arm so that Harry had to hold him close for the whole ride. Harry looked over and saw Pansy and Theo whispering to each other and pawing at each other under their quilt. Harry quickly averted his eyes and saw Draco watching him with a glint in his eye that made Harry want to tangle their legs together again and kiss him. The ride down the slope of the mountain towards the village in the valley wasn’t exactly a smooth one, and on one such bump in the road their sleigh was jostled and Draco ended up more or less in Harry’s lap. When Harry held the edge of the quilt up so that he could shift back to his seat, Draco smirked again at Harry.

“I think this is a more comfortable seat,” he said with a wink. Harry groaned under his breath as Draco unconsciously — or maybe knowingly, the torturous bastard — ground his arse against Harry’s lap. By the time they reached the village Harry was gripping Draco’s hips tightly and trying to will his half-hard cock to go back down.

Draco continued to flirt with him throughout the day, and Harry wasn’t sure why he was going to extra lengths to do so since they were already supposed to be a couple. It was driving him mad with want, and twice during their stroll through the village he’d pulled Draco against him and kissed him with a hard press of lips. He’d gasped the second time when Draco pressed his tongue into Harry’s mouth and snogged him properly. Harry’d held onto his shoulders and had been about to Apparate them back to the cabin when Pansy had squealed behind them about seeing a tour with reindeer and had reminded Harry of where he was.

Harry was in a low level state of sexual frustration all day, even through dinner during which Draco had placed his hand on Harry’s thigh unnecessarily. When he lay there listening for Draco’s breath to even out, he tried to calm down his beating heart so that he could relax and go to sleep. He pillowed his head on his arm and stared at Draco’s profile. Without warning Draco turned on his side and shuffled back against Harry, and Harry gave up on willing away his erection. Harry held his breath as Draco wriggled against him to get comfortable again, making a faint whining sound until Harry carefully laid his arm around his waist. Draco settled, and from his breathing Harry guessed that he’d fallen asleep again. Harry held himself stiffly; his prick demanded attention and the person he wanted to ravish was nestled with their arse against his lap. It was driving him mad that he couldn’t really do anything about it.

Harry bit his lip and his hand carefully crept along Draco’s hips. He held his breath as his fingers grazed over Draco’s stomach, and then trailed lower and lower. He stopped only once he’d reached the waistband of the loose sleep pants Draco wore. Harry was so focused on touching Draco in a way he normally didn’t get to that he’d missed the change in Draco’s breathing pattern. Harry gathered his courage and continued to reach lower, wondering at the firmness of the outline of Draco’s cock that he felt under his fingertips. Draco shifted slightly in his sleep and Harry held still for a moment. When Draco remained still he gripped the outline of Draco’s cock in his hand and squeezed it experimentally. He’d never actually been with a man before, but he’d wanked over being with Draco like this. It felt different than having his own cock in his hand, but Harry liked it.

After a few tentative touches Harry grew bolder and started to stroke it slowly. Draco shifted again, but Harry kept a hold of him this time. After several slow strokes he experimented with a twist of his wrist, like he liked, and he thought he heard a soft moan come from Draco. Harry paused and listened, then Draco’s hips shifted forwards slightly and pressed against his hand that still held Draco loosely through his sleep pants. Harry didn’t stop to think about what that meant, he just continued stroking, twisting his wrist every now and again, until Draco was moving his hips in rhythm with Harry’s hand, pressing into Harry’s strokes.

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough and Harry wanted to feel the smooth, heated skin of Draco’s cock against his hand. He stopped stroking and ignored Draco’s sharp whine. He moved his hand up and teased his fingers under Draco’s sleep shirt, caressing the heated skin of Draco’s stomach and running his fingers down through the soft curls that led him straight back to Draco’s prick. Draco shifted again as Harry’s hands slid slowly under Draco’s waistband and under his pants in one smooth motion until he had Draco’s cock in his hand again, hot and full. Draco sucked in a small breath and pressed against his hand to get him to move.

Harry rubbed his thumb over the velvety head, smearing the drop of precome he could feel there, and marveled at the way Draco’s body came alive. Harry moved closer until his own erection was pressed up against Draco’s arse. He rocked his hips forward against Draco as he wanked him.

Harry stopped a second time, and this time Draco growled at him. Harry ignored it in favour of licking his hand and returned to stroking. Draco’s head dropped back against Harry’s shoulder as his hips pressed his cock forward into Harry’s fingers. Harry turned his head and rubbed his nose along the skin of Draco’s neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his sensitive pulse point. Then Draco’s hands moved back and pulled insistently at Harry’s pajamas until he was gripping Harry at an awkward angle, but Harry didn’t care because it felt bloody brilliant. Harry gave into the urge to suck on the tendon in Draco’s neck, nipping at it with his teeth and relishing in the way Draco bucked against him.

After several minutes of mutually stroking each other’s cocks Harry wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer and his arm was starting to ache. Then Draco stopped him, casting one contemplative look at him over his shoulder. For one horrible heartbeat Harry thought he was going to say something to break the spell between them, or stop it altogether. But then Draco was wriggling his pants down to his thighs, and Harry couldn’t see much in the dark, but what he could make out made him bite his lip. Draco reached to the side table for his wand and whispered a spell. He shifted his arm behind himself, grunting softly with the effort.

Then he was looking at Harry in silent invitation, and reaching back to pull Harry until he was pressed against Draco again, shoulder to hip — his cock nestled snugly between Draco’s oil slicked arse cheeks. He thought he might lose it then and there. Draco shifted his hips and Harry got the idea, beginning to rock his hips slowly. Harry groaned softly and pressed his forehead to Draco’s shoulder at the feel of the warm slide. He wondered at the fact that he wasn’t even _inside_ and it still felt bloody amazing.

Draco’s oily hand grabbed at his, fingers twining together for a moment before Draco was dragging Harry’s hand back to his own cock and squeezing it before Harry got the message and started to move his slick hand to stroke Draco’s prick again as Harry thrust against his arse.

Draco was moaning quietly, making small noises as his hips rocked back against Harry and fucked into his hand. Draco made a desperate sound every time he arched back and the head of Harry’s cock rubbed against his rim. Harry wanted to know what it would feel like to be inside of him. Their movements grew choppy and stilted as they both got closer and closer to their releases. Harry squeezed and twisted his hold on Draco’s cock and Draco tensed against him as he came.

“Oh — _oh_ ,” Draco murmured quietly and panted as he shuddered through his orgasm. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen, and when Draco’s arse clenched tightly with Harry’s cock nestled between his cleft Harry could only manage to thrust twice more before he was biting the side of Draco’s neck and muffling his groan as his release coated Draco’s arse. The only sound that filled their bedroom was their panting as they both came down.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he pulled at Draco’s shoulder and kissed him hungrily, sucking on his bottom lip and relishing the slide of their tongues as Draco deepened the kiss. They kissed for several long moments and broke apart slowly, with Draco pressing one last chaste kiss against his lips.

Draco leaned back over to the side table and cast cleaning charms over both of them before he flopped back down and pulled Harry’s arm around him. They seemed to have reached a silent agreement not to speak, and they went back to sleep with Harry spooned up behind Draco. 

When Harry woke the next morning he slowly swam towards consciousness. He hummed contentedly and snuggled closer into the back of Draco’s neck and squeezed him. Harry peppered Draco’s neck and what he could reach of his shoulder with kisses until Draco stirred. Harry was curious if they’d have time for a repeat of the previous night before they had to leave the cabin.

“What are you —“ Draco asked groggily, and then he cleared his throat and pulled away. Harry leaned back against the headboard with his arms folded behind his back and watched as Draco moved around the small room collecting their things. “You should get up and get dressed, Potter, I think it’s late.”

Harry frowned and shifted. “I don’t think I will, I’m going to soak up what’s left of my vacation. Why don’t you come back to bed and soak it up with me?”

“Oh, what a line. Bravo, Potter,” Draco said with a scowl. Harry sat up in bed.

“What’s wrong with you this morning?” Harry asked.

“Oh — bloody Gryffindors, are you going to get all sentimental and attached on me now? Last night was just about getting off together,” Draco said and Harry recoiled as if he’d been slapped.

“You — what — I thought,” Harry spluttered, trying to find the words to express himself.

“It was just sex, Potter. It was for the act, in case anyone came in here,” Draco said again and turned his back on Harry. Harry’s emotions were clashing together — hurt, anger, and regret. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell Draco the truth about how he felt. Draco used his wand to gather their things and pack them back into their bags before adding over his shoulder, “I don’t have feelings for you. Everything I do with you is for the plan to improve my public standing and reputation.”

*******

Harry regretted ever falling for Draco’s flirting, and for giving in to his desires for Draco. He was so afraid that now he would lose Draco, even as a friend, when he finally called their fake relationship off. He had no idea where they stood with each other. Most of all he feared that Draco resented him for putting him in that position.

Things between them remained strained in the weeks that followed. They returned to their routine at home and slowly worked back to a ghost of the friendship they’d had before Harry had gone and ruined everything with his mistake in Austria. Things between them never went back to exactly how they’d been before the trip. Draco would only allow a chaste kiss or a friendly touch outside of the house, and he only scheduled them one night out a week. He even gave excuses to his mother and insisted that they would need a short break from weekly dinners at the Manor.

Harry’s training schedule at work became crazy with the end of term exams that determined whether or not they’d move on to the next level of training. He also started to worry about the speech the Ministry requested he give at the gala that was looming on their social calendar. He pushed his regrets and fears to the back of his mind and threw himself into his studies. Before their trip Draco had promised to help Harry work on something to say, but since they’d been back from Austria, Draco avoided him at the house. The only time they saw each other at home was when Harry made a fry-up on the weekend or when they crossed paths in the kitchen in the mornings or evenings.

Harry became lonely in his own home, missing the comfort and companionship he’d been enjoying with Draco before the trip to Austria. He missed Draco.

Draco had been in his own world since they’d been back, hastily running from meeting to meeting and staying up late into the night to alternate between going over business proposals and his applications for the training program. Sometimes Harry would catch him looking at Harry with an unreadable look on his face. Harry was sad to see the deep purple marks of exhaustion under his eyes. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping or eating very much, and Harry wanted to scold him, but now he knew it wasn’t his place to do so. What he felt between them wasn’t real, and while he might have feelings for Draco it turned out that Draco didn’t have any in return for him.

Harry had been sitting in front of the fireplace trying to read his training manual that he was meant to be studying, but he’d ended up staring into the fire. He jumped when Draco stormed in and angrily tossed a wad of papers into the flames.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Draco said through clenched teeth as he watched the flames lick at the papers until the parchment turned black and crumbled to ash. “It’s never going to be enough for these bloody people!”

“What’s wrong, Draco?” Harry asked, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Draco whirled on him and pointed an angry, shaking finger at him.

“It’s still not enough for them — I’ve done everything I can fucking think of! I’ve sent them at least a hundred applications at this point, I’ve been dating you for the last five months — we’ve even moved in together!” Draco ranted, working himself into a strop. “I keep thinking that this will be it, this time, every time I’ve sent those fucking applications and ticked off another box on another form — I think they’ll finally look past the name and just let me fucking live my life doing what I want to do!”

Harry sighed and summoned a bottle of Firewhisky and two crystal tumblers from the bar cart in the corner and poured them both a measure. He handed one glass to Draco and set his own down on his knee between his fingers. Draco tossed back his whole drink in one large gulp and sank heavily onto the sofa with a groan.

“I can’t think of what to do, but we’ll need to take this charade another step further,” Draco said.

“So we’ll get married,” Harry suggested, a bit resignedly. Draco looked up at him sharply and studied him. Harry would do what he had to in order to help Draco at this point. He wanted it to be real, but it would be just another notch in the belt of their fake relationship. He tilted his head back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, swallowing past the tight lump in his throat. Harry wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Draco, but he couldn’t because it was just them, and they weren’t really a couple. He didn’t want Draco to push him away a second time. He couldn’t even really comfort him as a friend, not in the way he wanted to. He closed his eyes and ignored the painful twist of emotions in his chest, the desire for his proposal to be something they could do for real. He could do this for Draco.

“You want to get — you’re sure?” Draco asked. Harry shrugged, nodded, and then sipped at his drink. He let the burn in his throat wash over him and calm him. “We could get divorced after a while. I don’t want to keep you forever, or prevent you from finding someone to be with.”

Harry tried not to flinch at the way Draco’s words cut into his heart. He did want to be kept forever. He didn’t want anyone else. Harry poured himself another drink. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. If it will help you, then we should do this.”

He was left wondering when the ruse would end. He was hopelessly falling for Draco, and now he couldn’t imagine not living with him or having him in his life.

*******

Harry felt uncomfortable in his tailored formal dress robes, the second set that Draco had insisted on buying for him. He took a steadying breath and held his arm out to escort Draco into the ballroom. Draco squeezed his arm and took a step closer to him to whisper in his ear.

“It’s alright, you’ll do fine,” Draco murmured. Harry shot him a brief smile before nodding and taking them into the cavernous ballroom. There were large golden globes that resembled balloons floating all over the room and long white fabric draped all over that reached from the ceiling to the floor.

After Harry had suggested that they get married, Draco had opened back up to him again, slowly. Their life became comfortable again. Draco had helped him work on a speech, despite his whinging about _not_ wanting to speak tonight. Draco had told him that people just wanted to be reassured that there was hope for moving on. Harry had slowly relaxed the tight hold he’d had on his own heart, opening back up to his feelings for Draco.

As they moved around the room mingling with the other guests, Harry’s stomach was turning over the openly hostile looks that a few people gave Draco. Some even outright ignored his existence. Harry quickly grew haughty with those people and stomped away. Others were different and actually engaged Draco in conversations and asked him about his business dealings in different markets in the post-war economy. Harry struggled to keep up in those conversations, choosing instead to focus on watching Draco thrive in a social environment. He lightly stroked his fingers against Draco’s lower back where his hand rested.

It felt like all too soon when they were being seated for dinner and the speeches started. Kingsley spoke at length about the merits of the wizarding community coming together in a time of need to rebuild businesses and important places in the community, like Hogwarts. He spoke of the volunteers who had donated time and money and resources throughout the summer and fall. But then, it was Harry’s turn.

“The Ministry would like to welcome Mr. Harry Potter, Saviour of the wizarding world, and Order of Merlin, First Class, to the podium to speak,” intoned a disembodied voice that boomed throughout the ballroom. The crowd murmured as he squeezed Draco’s hand and stood, slowly making his way towards the podium. Kingsley stood stoic and impressive, with his arms clasped behind his back. He gave Harry a warm smile as he approached.

Harry tugged at the too-tight neck of his robes as he stepped up onto the platform to stand next to Kingsley. He was annoyed with himself for being nervous, and for forgetting everything he had prepared to say. He took a steadying breath as he stepped in front of the podium and tried to find the thing inside of him that he used to pull from when he spoke to Dumbledore’s Army.

“Hello, er, good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Harry said into the antique Muggle microphone that was charmed with a Sonorus to amplify his voice. “I first want to say thank you to those that were lost, and remember them,” Harry swallowed thickly and tried to push Remus, Fred, Tonks, and all the others to the back of his mind, or he’d never make it through the speech he was meant to give. “The — uh — Ministry has been hard at work with the newest training recruits at the Auror Training Academy, we learn every day how to defend against and defeat dark wizards and how to contain threats. But the real truth of it is, threats can come from anywhere. Anyone could have been Tom Riddle — hell, I could have been him. I was an orphaned wizard, alone and isolated and — “

Gasps were ringing out and Harry cut himself off.

“Well, what I mean is that the reason I was different from Tom was because of people like my friends, and my mentors — Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore. Love. Love is what’s important.”

Harry stared out into the sea of faces, desperately searching for Draco. He tried valiantly to remember what it was that Draco had told him to focus on — something about hope. Harry spotted Draco and saw him subtly nodding encouragingly. Harry latched onto Draco’s hope of moving on. He cleared his throat and found the words he needed to say.

“Everyone should be allowed to move forward — even people accused of being a Death Eater, or those who are associated with them, because there isn’t just the winning side of a war that’s left over at the end of it all,” Harry said with gaining confidence and conviction. He glanced around at the room and then stared directly at Draco. His heart fluttered in his chest and he smiled.

“If I could impart one thing onto you tonight, I encourage you all to forgive each other,” he said with his eyes on Draco’s. “There are opportunities in forgiveness and moving forward that people need to open themselves up to. I’m glad I did, because it’s led me to Draco.”

Harry glanced once more at the murmuring crowd before he spoke his final words with a grin. “We’d like to announce that we are engaged to be married, thanks to forgiveness, the desire to move forward from our past, and — most importantly — love.”

Harry walked off the platform to the fever pitch of the crowd at the announcement he dropped on them and the flashes from cameras. Draco stood at their table, waiting for him, and when Harry reached him he didn’t hesitate to cup Draco’s face gently in his hands and kiss him.


	5. PART 5

Draco couldn’t have predicted the way the wizarding press ate up the announcement of his engagement to Harry. At the gala, Rita Skeeter and her ilk had hounded them throughout the evening. The Daily Prophet’s photographer had trailed after them and kept snapping pictures until Draco was seeing spots. Harry had been impressively overprotective. He had even growled at the photographer to leave them in peace, and no one would ever be able to get Draco to admit how attractive he’d found the display. And then after the gala, the Prophet, Witch Weekly, and all the other publications were hounding them with Owls for exclusive interviews. Harry had hated it all. It had taken two full weeks for Draco to convince him that this exclusive interview with Witch Weekly would be a good way to get them all off of their backs. What he hadn’t planned on was the elaborate photo shoot setup that they were immediately ushered into upon their arrival. Harry had shot him a dark look that told him he would be paying dearly for this later.

Draco frowned as he was subjected to Glamour Charms, manhandled into different robes, and shoved onto the studio set that had a white leather couch and not much else set up. He’d taken little solace in the fact that Harry seemed to be given the same treatment. In the weeks that followed the announcement of their engagement things had finally seemed to be working for Draco.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. We look ridiculous,” Harry muttered as he came up next to him, shooting a dark look over his shoulder at the short witch trailing after him with a powder brush. She pulled up short and scampered away, past where the bright magically lit studio lamps were beating down on them and illuminating the set. The bright light was already making Draco’s eyes hurt.

“They didn’t mention anything about a photo shoot when they were corresponding with me over Owl post,” Draco said in his defense. He crossed his arms over his chest tightly and eyed the attire the stylist had chosen for Harry. _Salazar, help him,_ he thought. Draco clenched his hands into fists against his rib cage to keep himself from running his hands over Harry’s bare chest. His eyes hungrily tracked the dusting of dark curls over Harry’s chest that led down his navel and into the tantalizingly low waistband of the very tight denims the stylist had dressed Harry in. He was even barefoot. Draco swallowed and turned his back on Harry and stared unseeingly at the white leather couch.

“Yeah, well, you might have guessed. Witch Weekly is always the sort, aren’t they? At least they let you have a bloody shirt,” Harry grumbled and walked into Draco’s line of vision and flopped gracelessly onto the couch.

Despite his whinging he didn’t look embarrassed to be shirtless. He had a commanding and magnetic presence, not to mention a nicely developing set of muscles thanks to all of the Auror training he was being put through. The denims seemed to slide even lower, just barely hanging off of Harry’s hip bones. Draco wanted to crawl across the floor to him on his hands and knees in the very expensive Muggle suit they’d dressed him in. He wanted to lick those hip bones and bury his nose in those coarse, dark curls. He bit his lip and forced himself to look up into Harry’s eyes. He noticed Harry was watching him with a calculating look. Draco looked away again and busied himself with adjusting the waistcoat he was wearing under the suit jacket. His feet were cold; they hadn’t allowed him to wear shoes either. Something about the _theme of the shoot_.

“For the interview, they’ll want to know how we got engaged,” Draco said as he sat carefully on the sofa. “Their readership is largely women, and they always eat that sort of thing up. Just think, all of your adoring fans and would-be brides tearing up as you recount how I swept you off of your feet with my proposal.”

“Wouldn’t they have already given up, seeing as I was dating you?” Harry asked with amusement colouring his tone. His arm had fallen across the back of the sofa behind Draco’s shoulders and his fingers absently brushed along the back of Draco’s neck, making him shiver. “And hang on — I proposed to you, if we’re being technical.”

“All you said to me was ‘ _we’ll get married then_ ’, Potter, so it’s not bloody likely that I’m going to tell the interviewer that!” Draco huffed and slumped back against the sofa and, incidentally, closer into Harry’s wandering fingers. They curled around the back of Draco’s neck and squeezed in a gentle massage. He had to bite down on an appreciative whimper and forced himself not to lean into the touch even more. “We can say you proposed, but we’d better be coming up with something better than your dismal and horribly un-romantic ‘well we’ll just do this then’ attitude.”

“Alright, Christ, fine — so how would your little imagination and massive ego prefer to have been proposed to?” Harry asked. His fingers kept up their gentle massage, and for one aching moment Draco wished this were all real and not some plan he’d pursued in the name of his family reputation. He closed his eyes and said the first civilized thing that came into his head, not wanting to delve too closely into what would _really_ make his heart flutter in the face of romance and love. Those were things for ridiculous people, like Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. This marriage charade was all about advantage and opportunity to him.

“Well, I suppose we can just say you surprised me at our home with my favourite bottle of wine and an expensive ring in your hand,” Draco said offhandedly, getting far too distracted by Harry working out a knot of tension in his shoulder. “Mm, that’s nice,” he murmured without meaning to.

“I didn’t get you a ring though,” Harry said, his tone strange. “I guess after this we’ll have to go to a jeweler to pick them up. Shall we get matching ones to really sell it?”

Draco was saved from having to respond to that idea by the arrival of the photographer, a plump witch that commanded the room easily with a sure voice. “Right you lot, let’s get started, shall we? Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I’m pleased you’re already comfortable on our set for today. If I could have you both stand up for me? Yes, excellent. Thank you.”

Harry shot Draco an uncomfortable look as the styling witches and wizards stood in a half circle around the edges of the designated set area to watch them. The photographer directed Draco until he was sitting on the white leather seat with his legs slightly spread and his arm draped along the back.

“Wait — hang on, love, the jacket’s not working for me. Just take that off and leave the rest, I think,” the witch said with her head tilted to the side. Draco slipped the jacket off and draped it over the arm of the sofa. The photographer’s eyes lit up and she nodded. “Yes, that’s better. Let’s roll up the sleeves on your shirt as well, shall we? We can’t have one of you looking very relaxed and the other looking very prim and proper.”

Draco hesitated, his fingers twitching towards the space above his left cuff. He took a shaky breath and unbuttoned his cuffs before beginning to roll them up. He wouldn’t hide who he was, or what he’d done. All he wanted was to move forward. To her credit the photographer didn’t even flinch when his Dark Mark was revealed, standing out in stark contrast against the shirt and his pale skin.

He felt the brush of Harry’s fingers at the back of his neck again and he looked up sharply. Harry was looking at him intensely and took a step closer, keeping his hand on the back of Draco’s neck. His fingers brushed through the hair at the nape. 

“Oh, wow, you two are really just — this is going to be an excellent shoot,” the witch said, interrupting the moment between them.

Draco sighed and let himself be ushered back into a seated position on the sofa until the photographer had him arranged to her liking. Then she directed Harry until he was sprawled across Draco’s lap with one hand wrapped around Draco’s thigh and the other twining their fingers together. Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his half-naked faux-fiancé and he had to tamp down on the urge to run his fingers lightly across every inch of skin that was on display. 

The photographer flitted around them taking photos. Draco found himself relaxing as her confident voice gave them directions to change their positions slightly. It started off relatively tame, considering he had a lapful of Harry, but it didn’t last long. Soon enough Draco was suffering as the witch directed Draco to do exactly what he’d wanted to. She told him to caress Harry — his chest, his sides, his jaw to make him look up at Draco — and all the while the camera and flash bulbs were going off at each change. Harry squirmed with each light brush of his fingertips and Draco could feel his prick taking an interest. She directed Harry to kiss his fingertips and bring a hand up to wrap around the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Right, now let’s change this up a little. Harry, if you could sit up against the sofa for me, please. Yes, excellent. Now Draco, if you could sit on his lap this time — no, not like that,” the witch was saying as she came forward to direct Draco until he was straddling Harry with his arms caging Harry in as his hands rested on the back of the sofa.

“This is awfully… intimate for an interview spread, isn’t it?” Draco asked in a strained voice. He struggled to keep a hold on his composure and not give in to the urge to bury his hands in Harry’s hair and devour his mouth in a bruising kiss.

“It’s just the fashion element, our readership has been dropping to go for more Muggle publications so we’ve been changing our content to compete with that. The clothes you’re wearing are designed by an up and coming wizard designer and will be advertised for purchase alongside your article,” the witch explained as she motioned for a stylist to come over to fiddle with their hair.

“And the Muggles have this sort of vulgar thing in their magazines?” Draco asked incredulously. Harry was frowning at him while his thumbs absently rubbed small circles into his hips where his hands rested.

“It’s not any more exposing than some of the photos that the Prophet has run on you both,” the witch said with a smirk.

“At least we had all of our clothes on,” Draco muttered under his breath and Harry snorted. 

“You’re the one that decided this was a good idea,” Harry reminded him unhelpfully. Draco swatted his shoulder.

“Right, so for this set, Harry, I’d like you to ignore the camera completely and slowly unbutton and take off Draco’s waistcoat, yeah?” the photographer directed and Draco scowled. He thought she was just having Harry divest him of his clothes because of his remark about being fully dressed. Harry looked up at him through his long eyelashes and slowly slid his hands up Draco’s chest. Every time the flashbulbs went off Harry would pop open another of the small buttons until he had it fully unbuttoned and the fabric fell open to reveal more of the shirt he wore underneath. Draco tried to keep his breathing steady throughout the torturous process.

At some point someone had started asking questions from behind the photographer, as she was skirting around them. Draco struggled to find sensible answers to the questions that would endear him to the magazine’s readers. He was so lost staring into the depths of Harry’s eyes. He was vaguely aware of Harry answering questions when Draco was too distracted to come up with an answer.

After the final flashbulb was smoking, Harry nudged Draco off of his lap and spoke quietly to the photographer. Draco felt like he was in a dream-like haze as the stylists guided him away and gave him back the robes he’d arrived in.

“I’m starved after all that. Kebabs?” Harry asked, startling Draco from his thoughts. Draco hummed in agreement and took Harry’s hand and led him from Witch Weekly’s studio out into the busy London streets.

*******

Planning what was being deemed as the _wedding of the century_ was beginning to give Draco an ulcer, on top of all of the other things on his plate. Between his family’s business dealings and his efforts to shine up the tarnish on their name, he was feeling himself starting to pull apart at the seams. It didn’t help that his mother and Mrs. Weasley were due any minute for tea to help with the _planning_. Pansy had also weaseled her way in, insinuating herself in the middle of his afternoon as soon as she’d heard the news.

Harry barely had time to help out, not that Draco could trust in his taste or judgement of what would be acceptable to polite society. Draco was sure if he’d left the planning up to Harry they’d end up at a wedding fit for paupers held in a barnyard. Part of him was glad that Harry had told him that morning that he wouldn’t be around for tea because he had to work. Another part of him resented Harry for leaving him alone with all of the women who wanted to help.

Pansy had already arrived and was perched at the island in the kitchen, with a low-cut robe that toed the line of appropriate and ridiculously high heels. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, not a hair out of place in her sleek bob style. She’d been tapping her red lacquered nails against his island for the last five minutes while they waited for his mother and the woman who was the closest thing Harry had to a mother.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to snag Potter _and_ lock him down in marriage. It puts you at an entirely unfair advantage,” Pansy said with a mock pout. Draco wanted to roll his eyes at her antics, but he played along and smirked at her to bask in his successful climb of the social ladder. If only she knew he didn’t _really_ have Harry. No matter how much he was growing to wish that he did.

“I always get what I want, darling,” he said. “And you’re not at much of a disadvantage, with Theo as arse over tea kettle for you as he is,” he added. Pansy perked up and looked smug and more than a little in love.

“Circe always seems to be smiling down on the Malfoy family, no matter which way the fates blow you,” Pansy said airily. Draco withheld a sigh. They may have escaped Azkaban for the misdeeds of their past, but neither the fates nor Circe were exactly smiling down on him. Draco’s mind wandered to the latest half-finished Healer program application that sat in the drawer in the study.

The Floo flared to life and his mother arrived in a swirl of poise and grace, effortlessly spelling away the soot and not missing a beat as she glided into the room to greet him with a kiss on both of his cheeks.

“Hello, my darling son,” Narcissa said. “It’s been far too long since I was last able to enjoy your company.”

“Hello, Mother,” Draco said as he guided her and Pansy into the sitting room where a tea service was waiting under a stasis charm. “I’ve missed you, as well.”

“I do hope you and Harry will be around to the Manor for dinner soon,” Narcissa said. They hadn’t started up with the frequent dinners with his parents, not since they’d been back from Austria.

“I — yes, we will be sure to come very soon,” Draco said. He was relieved when the Floo came to life once more and Molly Weasley bustled out, with her fiery red curls bouncing around her face. She had a warm smile that made Draco want to be nice to her, no matter what his father had told him about the Weasley family.

“Hello, Draco!” Molly said as she came into the room, waving him off from standing to greet her. She set a large handbag down on the floor next to the sofa and sat next to Pansy, jostling her and causing Pansy to dart a rude look her way. “It’s so good to see you! And hello, Mrs. Malfoy, you’re looking very well.”

They exchanged polite greetings. Before Draco could serve them all tea, his mother and Molly were wearing twin expressions of eagerness and leaning towards him with a gleam in their eyes.

“Weddings are just wonderful, everyone needs one,” Molly said. For a brief moment she had a distant, haunted look in her eye that made Draco uncomfortable to look at. He had heard that his deranged aunt had led an attack on the Weasley’s home during a wedding.

“Quite,” Narcissa cut in. “I’m very pleased you’ve agreed to let us help out. You were very small the last time you attended a wedding, and there’s just no way you or Mr. Potter could know about all of the traditions.”

“You _must_ have white and red roses to symbolize unity,” Pansy added as she leaned forward, looking more like a hungry beast ready to pounce on its prey rather than his childhood friend. “I’ve always dreamed about the flower traditions for my own union,” she added with a girlish sigh.

“I hadn’t really thought about the flowers. I don’t really think either of us will care either way about them,” Draco said. He loved his mother and his friend, but he could already feel like this was a bad idea to involve them all. In his mind he thought that daffodils would be more appropriate to tell Harry of his feelings that Harry didn’t reciprocate. Instead he asked, “Wouldn’t ivy and ferns be more appropriate for wedded happiness and magic?”

“Don’t be silly, Draco, of course you’ll still have ivy and ferns. The whole place will be absolutely swimming with them. But you need the red and white roses — it’s _tradition_!” Pansy explained.

“I’ve always imagined that Harry would like the hand-fasting and unity bond,” Molly said as she ran her fingers lightly over her own hand. Draco was sure she was remembering her own wedding. His mother raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “It’s a beautiful ceremony.”

“I suggest the traditional marriage bond that our family has used for the last thirty generations of unity ceremonies,” Narcissa said carefully. Molly shot her a wounded look.

“The traditional marriage bond is a little — ah — historic,” Molly said slowly. “It doesn’t allow much room for their own vows to each other, or for bonds that are more based in love.”

“It’s a tradition in our family. It’s a perfectly appropriate bond, and it still allows for love in the marriage,” Narcissa explained, shifting elegantly in her seat. “It’s a more politically sound choice.”

“Well, they haven’t got to worry much about politics, have they? They’re young and in love!” Molly protested. 

“Perhaps we can save the decision on which bonds we choose to include in the ceremony for later. I doubt Harry would appreciate me choosing one without him,” Draco said diplomatically, trying to break up the strain in the conversation. Molly turned back to him with a smile.

“Have you given any thought to where you’ll have the ceremony, dear?” she asked.

“At Malfoy Manor, of course. Every Malfoy who has ever been married has gotten married on those grounds,” Narcissa cut Draco off before he could answer. Molly’s smile fell and the air became awkward again.

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I had thought that maybe Harry might like to use the field behind our home,” Molly said. Draco didn’t fancy the idea of a big, ridiculous ceremony at either location, and he was starting to see why so many couples just eloped. There were responsibilities and expectations on his shoulders, though, and that wouldn’t be an option for either of them. He toyed idly with the ring that he and Harry had picked out after the photo shoot for Witch Weekly. Harry had gotten a matching band.

“Oh, you _must_ have it at the Manor, Draco!” Pansy said excitedly. “In the garden; it will be so beautiful and regal!”

“Your father will insist, I’m afraid,” Narcissa added. Draco wanted to sigh. His father would insist, even if he didn’t fully support his so-called relationship with Harry. His father had already been making several overtures to him about the Greengrasses and his _alternative options_ that would guarantee him an heir.

Molly was frowning now, and Draco felt the inexplicable urge to cheer her up. He wondered if it was the little pastries and tarts that Harry came home with on Sundays that had won her Draco’s loyalty.

“I think the location will be another thing I’ll need to decide with Harry,” Draco said with finality. His mother pursed her lips, but he was the only one that could see since he was the only one to know to look for it.

“As you wish,” Narcissa said with a slight bow of her head.

“Harry and I will have to think about all of these things carefully,” Draco said to placate his mother. “After all, the eyes of the entire wizarding world will be on us.”

Their wedding planning and conversation remained civil, but strained as they finished with their afternoon tea. Draco pictured eloping in his mind and smiled faintly at something that would never come to pass.

*******

Later that evening Draco told Harry about the tea he’d had that afternoon when he returned home from the patrol the Aurors in training were assigned over the summer months. Draco hovered around Harry as he moved around the kitchen.

“And how do you feel about going the traditional route and doing Malfoy Manor?” Harry asked as he set out ingredients for dinner on the counter. He straightened up and looked at Draco carefully for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll be honest with you —“

“As if you could be anything but,” Draco interrupted him with a snort. Harry made a face and made a rude hand gesture.

“Don’t be a prat. I understand how important it might be to your family to have the wedding ceremony on the Manor grounds. I can even see how that would be a big help towards your plan,” Harry said as he retrieved a cutting board and started chopping vegetables. Draco tried not to be distracted by his forearms. Sometimes he could appreciate that Harry liked to cook the Muggle way because it meant he rolled up his sleeves. “If the public saw us married there it would send the message that we’re moving past all of the shit from the war.”

“But,” Draco prompted him when Harry went quiet and focused on chopping vegetables. Harry looked up at him with sad eyes.

“But I don’t know if Ron or Hermione, or any of the Weasleys, could stand to be there. And I won’t get married without them there, fake wedding or not,” Harry said and it drove an icy spike through Draco’s gut. He clutched at the marble countertop of the island and tried to breath through the barrage of memories of the horrible things that had happened at the Manor during the war. He swallowed thickly as he regained his composure. It was easier to compartmentalize and keep them from his mind while he lived away from the Manor.

“Of course, I don’t —” Draco said and was surprised when he felt Harry’s hand on his wrist. His thumb was rubbing comforting circles over the back of his hand.

“It’s okay, it’s not like I’ve forgotten what happened, and I haven’t changed my mind about helping you,” Harry said gently. “I just don’t want to put them through that. Especially Hermione.”

Draco nodded, focusing on not swallowing his tongue.

“I’m not sure my parents could stand to go to the Burrow for the ceremony, either,” Draco said and stared at the countertop. If they couldn’t agree on a location for the ceremony, would that mean the end of the agreement?

“We’ll figure something out. I don’t like it, but in the worst case we could get married at the Ministry. The ballroom they used for the gala can be reserved for special events,” Harry said and moved back to the vegetables he was chopping. He placed them into a bowl and slid it in front of Draco. Draco tossed the salad absently. It was one of the few cooking skills he’d learned from Harry, who was working up to teaching him about soup.

“Hey, what about Hogwarts? Just before the term starts?” Harry said with a wry smile. “It would certainly bring some happier memories to the first place I considered my home again.” 

Draco shook his head and moved to the sink to peel the potatoes with a spell. They continued to cook their dinner together in a comfortable, companionable silence that warmed Draco as they sat down to eat their meal. He never would have dreamed he would find something like what they had with Harry Potter of all people, even if it was all for show.

*******

When July and Harry’s birthday rolled around, Draco found himself hesitating in the doorway to Harry’s bedroom, hovering while Harry finished getting dressed. The Weasley family was throwing a big celebration for Harry at the Burrow, and Draco was unsure if he was welcome. He’d only been there once or twice, briefly, in the months that he’d been pretending to be Harry’s boyfriend. He didn’t want to intrude. For his own birthday they had both gone to a quiet dinner at the Manor with his parents and the few close friends he had.

“Are you just going to stand there watching?” Harry asked, jolting Draco from his thoughts. He frowned as he tracked Harry’s movement around his room, in only a well-worn pair of denims that he wouldn’t let Draco throw out. He didn’t have a shirt on and it was rather distracting. 

“Of course not, I came to see when you would be leaving,” Draco said. Harry rummaged through his wardrobe before finding a t-shirt and put it on. Draco’s fingers itched to smooth the unruly mess of hair that was even more of a mess after getting caught up in the shirt.

“I thought we’d leave after I got dressed. Is that what you’re wearing?” Harry asked. Draco looked down at the wizard robe he had on. It had an embroidered waistcoat that had an over-robe resembling a light cloak that was clasped at the neck by a filigree chain.

“What does it matter to you what I’m wearing while I’m at home?” Draco asked as he looked back up.

“What? No, you’re not spending the afternoon cooped up inside. It’s a beautiful day,” Harry said as he came over to stand before Draco with his hands on his hips in a determined fashion.

“I certainly will. I’ll do as I please,” Draco said haughtily. Harry herded him from the room and down the steps into their sitting room.

“Fine, be that way. You won’t be very comfortable out in the sun with those robes, though,” Harry said.

“I’m staying here,” Draco said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh, come on, you prat. We’re friends, right? I want you to come to my birthday party,” Harry said with an earnest expression that Draco found was impossible to say no to. _Damn it, Potter, must you, with the crup pup eyes?_ “Besides, they’ll expect you to be there anyway now that we’re going to get married.”

Draco heaved a put-upon sigh and watched as Harry tried to give him the puppy eyes again. He even bit his lip.

“Don’t expect me to talk to anyone,” Draco said under his breath as he spun on his heel and strode away to change into something better suited for their destination. When he came back into the room, Harry was beaming at him and it made Draco’s heart flutter in his chest.

Draco was unsurprised to find the Burrow in a state of contained chaos when they arrived. He saw George Weasley setting up a crate on the far side of the garden and made a mental note to avoid him after their last run in. Molly Weasley came bustling out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, and wrapped them both in bone-crushing hugs.

“Oh, you’re here, you’re here!” She cried as she planted a wet kiss on Draco’s cheek. “Arthur! Come outside and say hello, Harry and Draco have arrived!”

Arthur Weasley came out into the garden followed closely by Draco’s aunt Andromeda with his baby cousin on her hip. As soon as little Teddy saw Draco he made grabbing motions with his pudgy little fists and his turquoise hair turned to match his own white blond hair. Draco smiled and held out his arms for the squealing child. He expected he might be spending the night much like he had at their housewarming, with Teddy glued to his side.

“Happy Birthday, Harry. Good to see you, Draco,” Arthur said warmly and shook both of their hands. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and wandered over to where George was.

“Hey Teddy, how’s my little man doing?” Harry crowded close to Draco, wrapping an arm around his waist and bopping Teddy lightly on the nose with his free hand. Teddy giggled and babbled happily back at him. Draco could feel Harry’s happiness engulfing him in waves. He leaned briefly against Harry’s shoulder before turning away when he saw George approaching them.  
“Harry, mate! I’ve got a wicked fireworks show for later,” George said, his voice carrying as Draco walked in the other direction.

“How is your mother, Draco?” Andromeda asked when he approached the table set up for dinner. Draco sat down stiffly and bounced the baby on his knee. His mother and his aunt had been asking tentatively after each other every time Draco saw them. Draco suspected they both wanted to mend the broken bridge between them, but both were too proud or afraid to take the first step.

“She’s been well. The wedding has her very excited,” Draco said. “She mentioned that she would like to invite you out for tea. There’s a tea shop Harry and I discovered in Diagon Alley that we’ve mentioned to her.”

“Oh,” Andromeda said in surprise. Draco tried to keep his expression earnest so she wouldn’t realize that he was meddling in their affairs. “I hadn’t realized.”

“You should send her an Owl and let her know you’ll meet her there. This week maybe?”

“Yes, I think I shall. I’d like that.”

Andromeda took Teddy back into the house to feed him and Draco enjoyed the quiet while he watched Harry talking to his friends. His quiet didn’t last long before two shadows fell over him where he sat.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Granger greeted as she sat next to him. Her boyfriend plopped down in the seat opposite.

“Granger, Weasley,” Draco said neutrally.

“Harry’s looking well,” Granger said cryptically. Draco made a humming noise.

“Listen, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about something for a while now,” Weasley said as he leaned forward on his folded arms. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ronald,” Granger said under her breath. She sighed and turned back towards Draco. “When this whole _relationship_ with Harry started you seemed to have an exit strategy. Then you two ended up…getting more serious, and now you’re going to get married.”

“Thank you for that fascinating walkthrough of how a relationship works,” Draco said dryly. Weasley frowned and opened his mouth, only to snap it shut at a look from Granger like the good little lap dog he was.

“Well, we’ve been worried about anything happening to Harry, should anything go sour between you two,” Granger said carefully, mindful of the people milling around that might overhear them. She leaned closer with a fierce look in her eyes. “We don’t want to see Harry get hurt.”

“Harry’s a big boy, he can handle himself, I’m sure,” Draco said and held his palms up. “We understand each other.”

“Be sure that you do, Malfoy, or you’ll be taking a long walk off a short pier,” Weasley said with a clenched fist. Draco stared at him bewilderedly.

“What in the name of Merlin does that —”

“Oh, Ron, _please_ stop watching mobster films after I’ve gone to bed!” Granger said in fond exasperation. Draco looked between them both when neither of them deigned to explain what in the world had just been said to him.

“You two are very strange, and very well-suited for each other,” Draco said as he stood to wander off to another part of the garden.

“Just remember what we said, Malfoy, we’ll always be there to look out for Harry,” Weasley said as he walked away.

Draco waved him off with a gesture as he ambled down a path that led out into the field. He explored the surrounding area behind the Burrow. He could hear the sounds of laughter and conversations floating out over the field. When he circled back towards the house Harry came bounding up to him.

“There you are! C’mon, we’re going to play a game of Quidditch,” Harry said and grabbed his hand, towing him back towards the party.

Draco was handed his own broom and was clapped on the shoulder by Ginny Weasley. He nodded to her and they both kicked off into the air. Harry and Weasley were right behind them with a Quaffle in hand.

“Okay,” Weasley said as he waved his wand to conjure floating rings to represent the goal posts. “First team to a hundred points wins.”

Draco was surprised that Ginny and he worked well together as a team. Harry and Weasley also worked well together, having played together for years, but Draco and Ginny were able to catch them up enough for the game to be an exciting one. Draco was out of breath and his hair was curling at the back of his neck by the time they landed. Harry, Weasley, and Ginny all flopped onto their backs in the grass, laughing. Draco sank gingerly into a seated position next to Harry. His eyes were glued to the strip of skin that was exposed where his shirt had ridden up.

“I can’t believe you managed to jump from your broom onto Malfoy’s and make that goal, Gin,” Weasley said with a wide grin. She saluted him with two fingers and a smug expression.

“That’s why they call it the pros, my dear brother,” Ginny said in a mockingly sweet tone. Granger and Lovegood wandered over to sit with them. Lovegood gently pulled Ginny’s head into her lap and started to twist her hair into complicated plaits. “Hello, there,” Ginny said as she looked up at Lovegood with adoring eyes. She had a handful of wildflowers that she wove into them.

“I bet she could do that flower thing to your messy mop, Potter,” Draco said and nudged Harry. Harry made a _tsk_ sound and pulled him down to sprawl on top of him. Harry absently ran his hands through the sweaty hair at the back of Draco’s head.

“And what would you get if you win, which I’m sure you would,” Harry said as his fingertips lightly brushed against Draco’s skin. “A kiss?”

“Please, I kiss you all the time,” Draco said with a mock huff. “I’d simply win the satisfaction of seeing you prancing about the garden on your birthday with flowers woven into your hair like a great ponce.”

Harry flipped them over with an impressive speed that Draco suspected he’d learned in his Auror training. Draco was flat on his back with Harry hovering over him. He raised an eyebrow at him. Harry studied him with narrow eyes for a moment before grinning brightly and planting a quick kiss on his lips. He flopped back onto the grass without any explanation, looking pleased.

“You’re so odd sometimes,” Draco said.

“I know, it’s why you love me,” Harry said fondly. Draco’s stomach swooped and he stared unseeingly up at the clouds. No one else paid them any mind. 

The party continued on with games, conversation, and cake after a large spread that Mrs. Weasley had lain out for dinner. Draco had reluctantly enjoyed the different atmosphere than what he was used to with his own family. He was sitting in one of the lounging chairs with a half-eaten slice of cake watching the sunset. He looked up when Ginny strolled over and perched on the arm of the other chair with her own piece of cake. They sat quietly together while they watched the fading light. Draco saw Harry helping Mrs. Weasley clear away the dishes from the table and he smiled.

“It’s weird,” Ginny said.

“What is?” He asked.

“You and Harry. It’s weird, but you work together,” she answered. Draco mentally commended their acting skills for making everyone believe their ruse so easily.

“I was as surprised as the rest of you that we were able to make amends with each other,” Draco said.

“I’m just glad to see Harry so happy,” Ginny said. It occurred to Draco that if he hadn’t asked for Harry’s help that things might have gone differently between Ginny and Harry.

“Don’t you wish it was you in my place, planning the big wedding?” he asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear her answer. She smiled and shook her head. She turned and watched her girlfriend as she chased fireflies with Teddy.

“No. I’ve never been more in love in my life,” Ginny said warmly. “After things with Harry and everything from the last year, I was happy just to play Quidditch professionally and travel. I wasn’t planning on finding what I have with Luna, but now that I have it I can’t imagine letting it go.”

Draco listened quietly, struck by how much her words applied to how he felt about Harry and the strange life they’d built based, in large part, on a lie.

*******

Diagon Alley was bustling with activity, the market vendors were shouting about their wares and people were chatting to each other as they shopped and strolled around. Draco had to train himself not to walk around with his hand on his wand, and to smother the urge to flinch whenever someone crossed his path or stepped too closely to him. It had been a difficult thing to unlearn after the number of incidents he’d had in the months following the end of the war. It was easier to relax when he was with Harry; his presence always guaranteed Draco’s safety.

A middle-aged woman in wispy summer robes blocked Draco’s path. It made Draco’s heart skip a beat and all of his muscles tense up. She noticed him and gave him a polite smile. “Excuse me,” the witch said as she stepped up to a stall behind Draco.

Draco let out a breath and relaxed once again as he continued over the cobblestone street that led to where he was meeting Harry for lunch. It seemed to be slow going, but people were finally paying less and less attention to him. But it was still slow enough to make Draco worry. Harry and he were showing up all over wizarding London week after week, and there were times when Draco still was accosted by people who wanted to blame him for everything that went wrong in the war. He was one of the few marked Death Eaters that had escaped a sentence altogether, so it was easy for people to make him their scapegoat.

When he met up with Harry and they put in their order for food, the man at the counter openly sneered at Draco. He wondered if he was going to end up with a sandwich with spit in it as they sat down. Draco sighed and looked out the window, resting his chin in his hand.

“If I had known, back then at the start of all of this, that even my food would be in danger of people’s opinions of my family, I think I might have tried to flee the country,” Draco commented after their food arrived. His plate had been clattered down in front of him and a few of his chips had slid off onto the table. He looked up and saw Harry scowling at the man behind the counter. Draco picked at his chips and returned to staring out the window to people watch.

“You can’t control every opinion about you and your family,” Harry said carefully. Draco watched him pick at his own chips and poke at his sandwich. “Some people might never change the opinions they have, mostly because they just don’t know you like I do. I’m glad that I do.” Harry reached across the table to take his hand before adding earnestly, ”As far as I’m concerned, everyone else that doesn’t can just fuck right off. Then I can have you to myself.”

Draco smiled and tossed a chip at Harry. “Such romance, you sappy ponce.”

“You did always bring out the best in me,” Harry said with a waggle of his eyebrows. Draco put his problems to the back of his mind and enjoyed his time with Harry. He intended to soak up every minute they had together until their arrangement finally came to an end.

Later on that same afternoon, Draco sat staring out into their garden and watched the butterflies flit around in the sunshine. More and more often he found himself confused by his own plan to pretend to date Harry. His own feelings were bleeding into everything, and he was losing his control on them. He sat up straight and stared at the butterfly that landed in front of him. It all hit him with a shock of clarity. He felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. He needed to protect himself, because somewhere along the way he’d completely fallen in love with Harry. Draco looked around wildly and ran a hand through his hair. _Well, shit_ , he thought.

He found himself wondering how good of an actor Harry really was. His kisses always felt real, and he always found excuses to touch Draco with light caresses. He thought about it mostly when they’d both retire for the night in separate rooms. He’d listen to the sounds of Harry getting into bed and wondered whether he was touching himself or not. Sometimes Draco could swear he heard Harry moaning in the shower. Ever since Austria, he knew exactly what kind of sounds Harry made.

Draco huffed out a frustrated breath and went upstairs to run a bath so he could think. He needed to find his focus again, because somewhere along the way he’d lost sight of doing as his father had asked him — his family was always his top priority.

*******

Blaise and Draco sat in the garden in the late summer breeze enjoying the expensive brandy Draco had nicked from his father’s study after their last meeting. They were already on their second glasses, drinking quickly as they talked. Blaise was trying to wheedle Draco into going out, teasing him for sitting at home reading his books on Healing and medical potions. Harry wasn’t due home until late. He was working a nighttime patrol shift.

“Look at you, you’re only nineteen and you’re already turning into an old house-husband!” Blaise laughed and sipped from his tumbler. Blaise had a deep, smooth laugh that wrapped around Draco like silk.

“Harry and I are no worse off than Pansy and Theo, or Millicent and Greg,” Draco shot back at him as he settled further into the cushion of the garden chair. The brandy was making him feel warm and languid. He looked up and searched out the stars in the city-lit sky. “Besides, if I hadn’t taken up with Harry, my father’s plans for me would have still had me married by twenty so I could get a headstart on heir-making for him.”

“Come off it, Pansy and Theo are way worse than you two,” Blaise scoffed. “Not even engaged yet and they already do everything together like an old, married couple.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure their engagement is imminent,” Draco said. “We’re all pairing off, what with Greg and Millicent off to Bulgaria as well. You’ll be the only one left.”

“I like it that way,” Blaise responded and finished off his second glass of brandy. “I’m young and out to enjoy the finer things in life.”

Blaise was leering at Draco openly. Draco was feeling pleasant and had started on a third glass that he didn’t need, already feeling more than a little drunk. He knew as soon as he stood up he would be feeling the effects of the alcohol on his system. He gave Blaise a lopsided smile and then tilted his head back towards the stars.

“Of course, you’d know all about the finer things in life. You’ve paired off with the best of them all,” Blaise said in honeyed tones. “I wouldn’t say no to a taste of that. What’s he like in the bedroom?”

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep inhale of the summery air and let it out slowly. He could tell Blaise lies based on what he imagined Harry to be like based on what he knew and fantasized about. He could tell him in explicit detail about their one off in Austria. He opened his eyes and stared unseeingly up at the sky. He reflected in a brief moment of lucid clarity that he shouldn’t have started on his third glass, or had so much to drink in such a short amount of time.

“I wouldn’t know,” Draco said evenly. He took a large swallow from his glass and grimaced. Blaise scoffed and snorted.

“What, like you’re playing it the old-fashioned way, and waiting until your wedding night like a maiden? I don’t believe that for a minute, what with the way you paw at each other in public,” he said, his eyes traveling up and down Draco’s body sprawled out on the lounge. Draco shook his head, making it spin a bit. He slowly turned to look at Blaise.

“No I mean that it’s not real,” he said. Blaise’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “It’s all been an elaborate ruse. We’re not really boyfriends — or engaged.”

“An elaborate ruse? Who’s brilliant idea was that?” Blaise asked.

“Mine. My father tasked me with restoring our reputation, and when the opportunity presented itself I acted,” Draco explained. He rubbed a hand clumsily over his face and his gut twisted with the passing desire for what he had with Harry to be genuine. “It’s gotten so out of hand. It was only supposed to be a few dates, and then the public would have seen that Potter forgave me so that they could, too. It was supposed to be a simple plan.”

“Wow, Draco, you’ve really put your foot in it this time. Haven’t you learned enough of these lessons about getting in over your head?” Blaise asked carefully. He set his empty glass down on the grass and shifted until he was close to Draco. He leaned over him and Draco could smell his cologne, sharp and spicy. He was overcome with a strange sense of everything around him happening in slow motion. “So, what you’re saying is, since you’re not really attached to Potter, that you’re sort of available.” It was a statement, not a question. Draco could only shrug and nod.

“So he’s more like your roommate than anything serious,” Blaise summarized. Draco nodded again, willing away the feelings he had for Harry and losing himself in Blaise’s cologne and his smooth baritone voice. “I can scratch that itch for you, since it sounds like you’re not getting any. Let me help you blow off some steam. It’s not like you could go out and pull for the night.”

“Look at us, just like old times,” Draco said with a wry smirk and reminiscing about their days of sexual discovery in their shared dorm room. He ran his hand along the length of Blaise’s arm and pulled until Blaise was sprawled across his lap.

Blaise straddled him and leaned down to rub his nose along Draco’s neck. He inhaled deeply and pressed an open-mouthed kiss under Draco’s ear. Draco arched up into the touch and let his hands caress the sinewy muscles of Blaise’s back. His hands slid under Blaise’s pressed shirt and skated across his warm skin. Draco turned his head and caught Blaise’s lips easily in a kiss that was both familiar, and at the same time made his heart rate kick up with excitement. He could taste the brandy on Blaise’s tongue and he grinned into their kiss.

They began to move together, rocking and rubbing against each other as their hands explored. Draco reached down and grabbed Blaise’s hips and gave a rough tug to pull him against himself harder. Blaise made a sound of approval and ground his erection down against Draco’s harder. Draco pushed at Blaise’s shoulders until he sat up astride his lap, rotating his hips like he used to when they’d fuck in their dormitory. Draco reached up and fumbled with the buttons on Blaise’s shirt, opening them to reveal his dark skin. Blaise pinned Draco back against the lounge and leaned down to suck on his neck.

“Mm, want to ride your cock,” Blaise murmured into Draco’s skin. Draco hummed in agreement and squeezed Blaise’s hips. Blaise worked on unbuttoning Draco’s shirt and peppered kisses to his skin as it was revealed.

“ _What the fuck_?!” Harry’s outraged voice shocked Draco out of the fog of his half-drunk arousal. He craned his neck around to see Harry, still in his Auror kit, standing in the doorway looking livid. Blaise didn’t miss a beat and continued to move against Draco and mouth at his collarbone.

Blaise looked up briefly to ask, “Care to join us, Potter?” Then he leaned back down and nipped at Draco’s neck. Draco arched up into the touch involuntarily.

“Get the fuck away from him, Zabini, that’s my _fiancé_!” Harry shouted and in a flash he was beside the lounge chair and ripping Blaise off of Draco. Draco looked up and a rush of _want_ coursed through him at the angry and possessive look that Harry shot him before frogmarching Blaise back into their house. He tried to will away his erection. Being caught out and wanting nothing more than for Harry to lay claim to him over and over again right there in their garden was making it difficult to think straight. Being more than a little drunk wasn’t helping him, either. He felt tingly; he wanted to move, but couldn’t find the energy to do anything about it. He was distantly aware of the sound of the Floo before he heard Harry walking back over the grass to him.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Harry said through gritted teeth as he pulled Draco up. Draco swayed on his feet, feeling dizzy and off-kilter from the alcohol. Harry gripped his upper arms tightly. He looked angry and hurt, and suddenly Draco wanted to shout at him that none of this was real and no matter how much Draco _wanted_ him that Harry didn’t have a right to keep him from getting off.

“’S not like I was gettin’ off with you. A man has needs, Potter,” he slurred and Harry looked even more outraged and betrayed than before. He held himself tensely as he guided Draco up the stairs and into his own bedroom before leaving him alone. Draco flopped down into his bed and stared at the ceiling, still hard and aching. Fuck, but Harry was hot when he was possessive. Draco slid a hand down to palm at his cock and strained to hear the sounds of Harry getting into bed in his own room.

A brilliant idea occurred to him just as he was starting to fall asleep; if he wanted Harry all he had to do was throw himself at him. He sat up and swayed as he looked around the dimly lit room. He stood on unsteady legs and walked into Harry’s room, his hand skimming the walls for support when he stumbled and overbalanced.

Harry was nothing more than a messy mop of dark hair under the coverlet. Draco smiled lazily to himself and slid into bed next to Harry. He made a muffled sound and turned away from Draco in his sleep. Draco wrapped himself around Harry and started rocking his half-hard cock against Harry’s tight arse. He moaned faintly and pressed his face against the back of Harry’s neck. He leaned up to lick and tease Harry’s earlobe. His hand skimmed over the warm expanse of Harry’s chest, down until he could palm Harry’s cock through his pants.

“Mm, Draco,” Harry mumbled and shifted his arse back against Draco’s cock. Draco slipped his hand beneath Harry’s pants and squeezed his prick, relishing the feel of Harry’s heated skin against his hand. Harry moaned and ground his arse back against Draco’s cock as his prick fully hardened in Draco’s hand. Draco bit his shoulder and rocked harder against Harry’s arse, wishing they were both naked so he could feel that arse in all its glory, be _inside_ of it.

“Merlin, Harry I want to fuck you into this mattress,” Draco whispered against the shell of Harry’s ear and Harry groaned and arched his body. He came fully away and opened his eyes in the dark bedroom as Draco turned him over so he could situate himself between Harry’s legs. “Want you,” Draco murmured as he peppered kisses along Harry’s jaw.

“Draco,” Harry said, his muscles tensing. He cupped Draco’s face in his hands and pulled him closer for a moment, aiming for a kiss, and then held Draco still. “Draco. You’re still drunk, this isn’t right. You don’t really want this.” His voice sounded strained and conflicted.

Draco groaned in frustration and thrust his erection against Harry’s hard cock. “No. Wanna bury my cock in you,” he said stubbornly as their hips moved together. Harry dropped his head back against his pillow and exhaled harshly.

“Jesus Christ, you’re going to kill me,” Harry said, bucking his hips against Draco’s with a stifled moan before flipping them over. Draco cried out and reached to grab Harry’s hips and hold him there, straddling Draco’s hips. Harry pinned his hands easily before Draco could reach. “Need to be a bloody saint to live with you,” Harry muttered as he wrestled Draco up and walked him back to his own bedroom.

“You are a saint, you’re Saint Potter,” Draco said, feeling drowsy and awake all at once. The room spun as Harry deposited him back into his own bed and waved his wand to put up wards around the bed. “What’s that?”

“I modified a detainment ward from training. This will keep you in this room on a timer, and in the morning it will dissolve,” Harry explained as he waved and twisted his wand in a complicated pattern. The ward glowed between them. Draco felt like he should find the energy to be impressed at Harry’s cleverness, but his cock was still throbbing for attention and he ignored the ward and Harry, in favour of stroking himself through his clothes. He was faintly aware of a scoff and the sound of the door closing.

*******

In the morning, Draco was met with the sight of Harry waiting for him, seated at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee and a potion sitting next to it. Draco paused in the doorway and raised an eyebrow at him before his head pounded in protest. The bright, early morning light streaming in wasn’t helping, either.

“Ugh,” Draco said and folded himself into a chair next to Harry. “Shouldn’t have let Blaise talk me into brandy last night, it gives me the worst hangover when I’ve had too much.”

Harry silently slid the potion across the countertop to Draco and sipped from his steaming mug of coffee. The bitter scent was comforting to Draco and he angled himself towards it. Draco picked up the potion bottle and squinted at it, reading the lettered label that read _Hangover Potion_.

“Oh, Merlin, _yes_ ,” Draco said thankfully and downed the sickly sweet potion, gagging. He immediately felt cool relief surging through his body and let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“Do you remember what you did last night?” Harry asked without looking at him. He was staring down into the dark, murky depths of his cup.

“Blaise and I sat out back and had a drink. We were catching up and talking,” Draco said, conjuring himself a large glass of water and downing it before summoning another. He squinted at the glass as hazy flashes of what happened last night surfaced in his memory. He held his tongue and waited for Harry to say something. He saw Harry’s hands flexing around the mug before he took a breath and relaxed.

“You almost cheated with Blaise. On our garden chairs,” Harry said tightly, his tone bitter. Draco felt like he’d swallowed ash as he remembered rutting against Blaise and Harry’s angry expression as he’d ripped Blaise off of him.

“I almost cheated on our _perceived_ relationship,” Draco said carefully, holding himself stiffly with his Malfoy mask firmly in place. He hadn’t had to do that in front of Harry in months. “We never said we couldn’t discreetly see other people.”

“No? Well, I guess that wouldn’t have been a problem if this plan had played out like you originally intended it to,” Harry said with an edge to his voice. Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment and turned to Harry. Harry looked hurt and distraught. He pushed the coffee away and pinned Draco with an intense stare. “And then after I put you to bed you crawled into mine and started something you shouldn’t have…said things you didn’t mean.”

Draco had a vivid flash of Harry straddling his hips and he bit his lip. Harry’s eyes darted down to his mouth before he met Draco’s eyes again. Draco saw the quick flash of heat in Harry’s eyes before it was gone again.

“You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes,” Harry said with a sigh.

“I’d had a lot to drink, I didn’t — I wouldn’t have done that otherwise,” Draco said cautiously, unsure whether he was referring to what almost happened with Blaise or throwing himself at Harry. Harry shook his head. He looked at Draco with an unnamed, intense emotion in his eyes for a long moment before he opened his mouth again.

“Sometimes I just wish —” the rest of Harry’s response was cut off by the Floo. Draco went to answer the firecall.

“Hello?” Draco asked as he opened the connection.

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,” a plump wizard with a bushy mustache greeted. “I’m calling to congratulate you for your acceptance to the Healing and Medical training program at St. Mungo’s.”

Draco stared at the wizard in shock, lost for words. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the wizard.

“A packet will be Owled to you this week to confirm your place in the upcoming term, along with study tracks and more information on the courses you’ll be taking,” the wizard said, his bushy mustache twitching with every word he spoke.

“I — thank you,” Draco said, unsure how to feel now that he’d finally achieved what he’d been working towards for the better part of the last year. His mind was back on Harry in the kitchen and on what he’d been saying when he’d been interrupted by the firecall. Draco wanted to know what it was that Harry wished, and whether or not it was possible that they wished for the same thing.

“Ta, then, I just wanted to call to inform you of the good news. We look forward to seeing you at the start of term, Mr. Malfoy,” the wizard interrupted his thoughts and bid him farewell.

Draco sat on his heels staring into the fire, his emotions warring inside of him.

“Congratulations. You’ve done it,” Harry murmured from the doorway. Draco looked over his shoulder at him. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said.

Harry lingered in the doorway with an unreadable look before saying, “I’m going out flying. I’ll see you later.”

Before Draco could tell him to stay, or ask to go with him, Harry was gone and Draco was alone in the house with his thoughts and his confusing feelings. All he knew was that Harry was the person he wanted to celebrate his success with.

*******

At the end of August a couple of weeks later, Draco felt the same as when they’d returned from their trip to Austria with their friends. Things were strained and stilted between them, and both of them were distracted by the impending start of the term for training. Harry was heading into his second term of the Auror Training Academy and Draco would be starting at the St. Mungo’s program that he’d sent countless applications to. The term for both of them was due to start the following week, and their highly anticipated sham of a wedding was set for the first weekend in September.

Harry hadn’t looked at him directly since that morning in the kitchen when Draco had gotten word that his application had been accepted. He would look above Draco’s head, over his shoulders, or stare at Draco’s neck to avoid looking him in the eye. Anytime he’d spoken to Draco had been clipped and he’d escaped discussions as quickly as he could.

If Draco had mentioned seeing his friends, Harry had gotten a dark look on his face and left the room, hiding himself away and sulking if Draco invited his friends over to the house. Draco didn’t know what he’d said to Blaise, but his friend refused to come anywhere near the house and was very careful about meeting Draco in very public places.

Draco felt like his mind was pulling him in twenty different directions. His thoughts were occupied by the conversation he’d had with his father earlier in the summer urging him to draft a divorce agreement if he wouldn’t listen to the alternative options he had.

They were both in the sitting room going over their respective paperwork for their study programs, and the final plans for their wedding were written out between them.

“You’ll make sure that Rita Skeeter doesn’t have access? I don’t want the press there at all for the wedding, if we can avoid it,” Harry said a he ticked off another item on the list between them.

“Yes, she will be barred from entering,” Draco assured him distractedly. He knew he would have preferred to avoid what he needed to bring up, but it wasn’t doing him any favours to keep putting it off. He bit his lip before asking, “Would you also like to discuss a strategy for how we can amicably divorce without the papers destroying either of us? Well, mostly me. I don’t want the Malfoy name to end up in the gutter of public opinion again after I’ve gone through all of this work to drag it out of the mud.”

“Oh, and I’ve not done any work at all to help you?” Harry flashed him an irritated, hurt look and glared down at his paperwork. It was the first time he’d actually looked directly at him in two weeks. “And when would you say we needed to divorce?”

“Well, as long as you’re committed to helping me with this I would suggest at least a year. It wouldn’t look good if we split too soon. That’s reasonable, right? Almost a year of dating and a year of marriage. Then I’ll let you go,” Draco said and struggled to keep his voice from wavering. Harry hunched his shoulders like Draco had wounded him. His hands clenched tightly, ruining the paperwork in his hands.

“I’ve, ah — my father, he suggested I draft these up,” Draco said haltingly and pulled out the draft of the divorce papers he’d had shrunken in his robe. Harry took the papers from him and skimmed them, his eyes flashing in agitation and barely controlled anger as he read. Draco twisted his fingers in his robe to keep himself from reaching out and touching Harry’s shoulder to relax the tension. “My father proposed an arrangement with Astoria Greengrass. He said if our fling doesn’t work out that I still have options.”

Harry flung the divorce papers down and stared at him with an unreadable look.

“You’re not going to marry Astoria Greengrass,” he grit out through his teeth. He’d shifted closer to Draco on the sofa and Draco’s traitorous cock gave a twitch of interest at his close proximity. “You’re not going to marry _anyone_ else, Draco.”

“I beg your pardon? Don’t deign to tell me what I can and cannot do, Potter,” Draco said sharply.

“You’re mine,” Harry said. He ignored the leap his heart took at hearing those words from Harry directed at him.

“I’m _pretending_ to be yours,” Draco clarified, desperately trying to keep his heart rate from speeding away from him. “I’m pretending to marry you.”

“No, you git!” Harry let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. “This hasn’t been _pretend_ for me — for a long time. I haven’t been faking it with you.”

Draco clenched his fingers tighter in his robe and took a steadying breath. He was losing the fine threads of his control. His heart was in his throat.

“How long?” He asked, staring ahead. He was afraid that if he looked at Harry he would do something stupid and revealing, like kiss him and pour his entire heart out at his feet. He could feel his hands shaking now. His whole being was tightly wound.

“Long enough. I was enjoying the friendship we were building before we started all of this. Maybe since that first kiss at the Quidditch game,” Harry admitted. “I don’t know — I think… I think I might be in love with you,” he said quietly. Draco finally glanced over at him. Harry stared down at his lap and closed his eyes tightly, looking for all the world like he’d just admitted the greatest defeat.

Draco lost his tight hold on his control. He dove at Harry and sealed their lips together in a kiss. Harry made a desperate sound and wrapped his arms tightly around Draco’s shoulders as he kissed him back.

“Wait, I don’t —” Harry pulled back and looked at him with searching, intense eyes. “I can’t if you don’t feel the same. I can’t do Austria all over again.”

“I do!” Draco said quickly and tried to reclaim Harry’s lips with his own. Harry held him still. Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “I’ve been in love with you for _half the bloody year_ , and wanting you for longer!”

Harry’s smile could have lit the whole room it was so bright, and Draco’s heart filled with warmth. Harry’s fingers skated over Draco’s jaw. “Oh. Well, good then,” he said with quiet reverence.

Draco nipped at Harry’s jaw. He felt an electric sort of excitement at having the freedom to explore and map out Harry’s skin to his heart’s content. He could feel Harry’s grin against his cheek.

Harry flipped them over with another one of his agile Auror moves. Draco didn’t waste any time burying his hands down the back of Harry’s Muggle lounge-pants and gripped his arse firmly as he brought their groins together.

“Yes,” Draco hissed as they rocked together. Harry sucked bruises onto his neck and Draco arched up against him.

“I thought I was going to go crazy and die of arousal when you crawled into my bed that night a couple of weeks ago, I wanted you so badly,” Harry murmured against his heated skin.

“I need to feel you. Take this off,” Draco said with a desperate edge to his voice as he tugged at Harry’s shirt and lounge pants. When Harry simply leered at him and waved his hand, Draco moaned at the display of power. He could feel Harry’s magic tingling over him. Their clothes melted away until there was just miles of heated skin. Harry covered his body again and Draco’s nerve endings felt like they were on fire in the best way. Their erections rubbed together deliciously, shooting sparks of pleasure up Draco’s spine.

Harry shifted suddenly and shimmied down Draco’s body, trailing kisses as he went. He sucked and licked along the fine lines of his curse scars and Draco arched up to meet his mouth. They’d never discussed anything about them before. This was the first time Harry was seeing them. Part of Draco wanted to hide them away, while another part of him wanted to hold Harry’s face against his chest so he couldn’t escape their past.

“M’sorry,” Harry murmured after he licked a long stripe up one scar. He repeated the apology over and over as he laved his tongue over Draco’s chest. Draco could only make a keening sound as he writhed under Harry’s tongue. Harry continued further down his torso, paying special attention to his hipbones. Draco was panting by the time Harry swallowed his throbbing prick. Harry tongued his slit and sucked. Draco let out a content whimper-sigh. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, messing it up even further as Harry sucked him off with eager enthusiasm. Harry massaged his bollocks and took as much of Draco’s cock into his mouth as he could before he gagged and pulled back. Harry’s tongue swirled around the head and he sucked Draco down again. It was sloppy — and fucking _brilliant_.

“Yes, like that,” Draco murmured, rolling his hips slowly up into Harry’s mouth. Harry took him even deeper into his mouth and gripped Draco’s hips. Draco pulled him back up his body to kiss him when he was too close to coming. He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and stroked them together with firm strokes.

“Ah, shit,” Harry breathed against his skin. Draco swiped his thumb over the head of both their cocks. Harry’s thrusts rocked Draco’s whole body and Draco needed _more_.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said with an edge of desperate _want_ in his voice.

“I — okay. I’ve never, um,” Harry said and looked down at him with a mix of emotions on his face. Draco leaned up to kiss him and squeezed their pricks together. 

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you how,” Draco said. He sat up and shifted Harry off of him. Draco dug around for his wand and conjured lube into his hand. He coated his fingers and leaned back on the couch to spread himself on display for Harry. He flashed Harry a devilish grin when Harry bit his lip and squeezed the base of his own cock. Draco slid one finger in and teased himself, reaching up to tweak one of his own nipples while he adjusted. Harry watched him with hungry, rapt attention as he worked himself open with a second finger. He caught Harry’s eye and nodded when Harry caressed his side and teased a finger along the edge of his rim alongside his own fingers. Draco removed his fingers and recast the lube charm in Harry’s palm. Harry touched him tentatively at first, careful not to hurt Draco.

“I tried fingers on myself in the shower when I wanked over you,” Harry said conversationally when he’d worked a second finger in, his gaze completely focused on the way his fingers moved in and out. Draco loved the feeling of Harry’s fingers opening him up, eager for what would come next. “I wanked imagining you fucking me and filling me up. Dreamt about it, too.”

Draco moaned and arched up. Harry fucked him with his fingers and quickly found his prostate. As soon as he saw Draco tilt back his head and bite his lip he alternated between teasing it and rubbing it directly until he was driving Draco wild. “You’re a — _fuck_ , yes — You’re a quick study,” Draco bit out. His entire body was thrumming with need.

“Youngest seeker in a century, remember? I’m good with my hands,” Harry said teasingly. He kissed him to swallow Draco’s indignant response while he massaged Draco’s prostate relentlessly. Draco bit Harry’s lip and sucked on it. He could feel the pleasure building inside of him and he grabbed Harry’s wrist.

“That’s enough, please. Need you inside of me, Harry,” Draco said breathlessly. Harry stared at him hungrily as he slowly removed his fingers and lubed up his cock. “Go slow at first. You’ll know when you can move.”

Harry nodded and hitched Draco’s leg up over his shoulder. He pressed in slowly, inching forward in one long motion until his cock was buried to the hilt. Draco bit his lip and rolled his hips in small circles to adjust.

“Fuck,” Harry said reverently, looking down at him in wonder. Draco laughed and leaned up on one elbow to pull Harry into another kiss. His hand tangled in Harry’s hair as he bucked his hips, making Harry groan and press their foreheads together.

“Move, Harry,” Draco urged, bucking his hips a second time. Harry didn’t need to be told a third time. He brushed his hands up and down Draco’s sides as he eased his cock out and rocked back in sharply. Draco wrapped his other leg around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer. Just like with his fingers, Harry managed the mechanics and coordination well. Harry thrust into him with varying angles until he found Draco’s prostate again, hitting it over and over as soon as he found it. Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he saw stars. Harry fucked him soundly into the sofa until he was reduced to a writhing, groaning mess.

“Jesus, you look so good like that,” Harry said and rose up on his knees to pound into Draco’s arse. Draco cried out and reached back wildly to grip onto the arm of the sofa for leverage so he could meet Harry’s thrusts. Harry turned his face and bit at the sensitive skin of Draco’s thigh. He soothed it with his tongue and repeated it until he’d marked him there with a love bite.

“Oh fuck, yes, _harder_!” Draco groaned and tossed his other leg up and over Harry’s shoulders. Harry gripped his thighs, his fingers pressing into his skin, and bent him in half. He thrust into him with short, deep strokes, and then pulled back. He kept Draco contorted while he pounded into him, hammering against Draco’s prostate. Draco was keening and moaning on every third thrust as he rocked up to meet Harry’s cock.

Harry reached forward between Draco’s legs to stroke his cock in time with the snap of his hips. It all built up to the point that Draco’s entire body felt strung tightly like a wire, and then it snapped as he came hard with a shout. The pleasure was washing over him in waves. His cock spurted and covered them both in white pulses of his release. Harry fucked him through his orgasm, making him twitch and squirm with the extended sparks of pleasure that were shooting through him.

“God, yes, _yes_! I’m gonna —” Harry said breathlessly as his hips stuttered out of control. Harry held him tightly as he stilled and hunched over him. Draco could feel Harry’s prick pulsing inside of him and filling him up with his come. He groaned one last time before collapsing on top of Draco. “Oh my god,” he mumbled into Draco’s damp skin.

“I agree,” Draco said with a laugh. He shifted his legs so they were wrapped around Harry again.

“When you’ve recovered enough it’s my turn. I want you to fuck me in the shower,” Harry panted and peppered the side of his neck with kisses. Draco’s cock gave an ambitious twitch and he grinned up at the ceiling. He trailed his fingers lightly over the expanse of Harry’s back, massaging and caressing whatever skin he could reach while he caught his breath. He couldn’t take his hands off of Harry. He wanted to discover every inch of him.

“Give me five minutes, then your wish is my command,” Draco said with a grin.

“Oh. good. I have a lot of wishes to cash in on, then. About a year’s worth,” Harry quipped. Draco reached down and slapped his arse. Harry hummed and shifted, pulling his softening prick out of Draco’s arse. He adjusted so they could lay tangled up together on the sofa as their damp skin cooled.

They relaxed in a companionable silence, occasionally broken up by periods of snogging while they explored each other’s bodies. Harry sucked Draco off to a second toe-curling orgasm and his brain was ready to melt out of his ears. Afterwards, Harry was laying with his head on Draco’s chest while Draco massaged his back again when a thought occurred to him.

“Do you still want to get married?” Draco asked quietly. Harry shifted up on his elbows to study him.

“I do if you do,” Harry answered after a moment.

“Even though you could have anyone?”

“Yes, you silly prat, I don’t want anyone else. I want you,” Harry answered and kissed him languidly.

“Should we cancel the one we’ve planned? It’s all too ridiculous,” Draco said as he tucked a stray lock of Harry’s hair behind his ear. “We could have the ceremony near your family’s home in Godric’s Hollow? Or we could have it at Hogwarts, like you suggested before?”

He could feel Harry’s smile against his neck, and Harry reached down and twined their hands together.

“We could elope. The press would hate it,” Harry said mischievously as he sat up. He picked up the forgotten divorce paperwork from the floor, where the papers had spread earlier. “And we won’t be needing these anymore. Come on.”

Harry held out a hand and Draco took it. Harry pulled him over to the fireplace and handed him half of the stack.

“Together?” Harry asked.

“Together,” Draco confirmed and kissed Harry quickly on the lips.

They tossed the parchment papers into the fire and held hands as they watched until every piece burned.

They turned to each other with warm smiles that held so much promise. Draco’s heart filled with a sense of rightness. Sod his father’s wishes; this was what he wanted. He was _happy_.

Harry encircled him in his arms and pressed feather-light kisses over every inch of his face. Draco cupped his cheek and pressed their lips together, kissing him deeply. This man would be his husband. _For real_. Draco kissed him harder, pouring everything he could and couldn’t say into it. Harry made a sound in the back of his throat and held him close. They broke apart and stared at each other with matching looks of wonder. For the first time in the last few years Draco felt like the whole world was ahead of him and that he could do anything.

“Your five minutes are up. Race you to the bathroom?” Harry smacked his arse playfully and took off for the stairs before he could answer. Draco stood there for a moment and admired his retreating arse.

“You think you’re cheating, but I’m the one with the winning view here, Potter,” Draco teased as he followed him at a more relaxed pace.

He could hear Harry’s laughter all the way up the stairs. It was the best sound he’d ever heard.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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